


erode.

by jalex_barakarth3012



Category: All Time Low, All Time Low (Band), Bandom
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - High School, Cosmology, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, High School, Jalex - Freeform, M/M, Marijuana, Radio, Recreational Drug Use, References to Drugs, Sex, Sexuality Crisis, Slow Burn, Stand Alone, anyway this very much focuses on their friendship more than anything, long long long oneshot, no gay sex sorry folks, radio show, straight sex!!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-24
Updated: 2020-08-24
Packaged: 2021-03-07 03:00:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 62,125
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26079886
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jalex_barakarth3012/pseuds/jalex_barakarth3012
Summary: exhaust yourself, boy exotic. wear your body and your mind down to a sand, and then come back.
Relationships: Jack Barakat/Alex Gaskarth, Jack Barakat/Original Female Character
Comments: 16
Kudos: 12





	erode.

**Author's Note:**

> hey all! i've created a soundcloud playlist to go along with the songs played on the radio show. nobody but us by sebastian olzanski wasn't able to be added and a few of the songs are only available for a full length listen if you have soundcloud go+ (very stupid) but all songs are available on youtube if you can't listen to them for one reason or another. 
> 
> https://soundcloud.com/user-724586403/sets/ground-control
> 
> also this does have a few straight sex scenes! both characters are of legal age and the scenes aren't too detailed but feel free to skip them if you're not interested. it is not imperative to understanding the plot.  
> other notes: this is meant to be set in the early 2000s, however the music played is not exclusively from the early 2000s and before (hence hozier, ariana grande, etc). this is also a very lengthy oneshot, so there will likely not be a second part. the only character i own is starlit; audrey is based off of one of jack's exes. finally, there is one scene inspired by a novel called "how to say goodbye in robot" by natalie standiford, so credit is due to her.

Through the curtains, the moon is almost new, a bare sliver of steely blue-white against the black sky. There’s a gentle breeze that drafts through the open window and chills the room. The trees outside rustle with the motion, just enough to offer a subtle white noise in the otherwise quiet night. The phone that sits on his bedside table has a bright glare from the street lights, the cord all twisted and mangled from how many times its been curled around a finger. The lights illuminate the room; there aren’t blinds yet to block out the yellow coloring. The whole house leaves something to be desired, each room missing a certain _je ne sais quoi_ that comes with a new owner who hasn’t finished unpacking.

Jack turns over for the umpteenth time.

The boxes lining the room are taunting him. The new mattress he’s on hasn’t been broken in and his new room doesn’t smell the same as his old room. The wind doesn’t smell the same either, and the trees don’t sound the same, and for some reason, the moon doesn’t look the same. In its eerie familiarity, Jack has never felt so alone.

He turns again.

The ceiling is nothing special. He thinks of the scene in that X Files episode where the ex-astronaut looks at the ceiling and sees the face of the man in the moon coming through the plaster. At least that’d give him some company. It’s a white room, waiting to be painted whatever color Jack decides on, but right now, he doesn’t care that it’s white. It’s only fitting to be in a bland room while he lies in bed with such a strong tug of longing in his chest that he wants to cry.

He shifts onto his side, staring at the street lights reflecting off the wall. It’s too quiet; he hasn’t plugged in his white noise fan yet. He thinks that maybe he’ll listen to some music, but that doesn’t sound right either, and he’s not interested in grabbing his walkman and potentially rolling over on it in the middle of the night. He misses human interaction, misses his friends. Their company wouldn’t fill the void that’s digging a crater in his chest, though; he just wants to listen to someone talk. An audio-blog, maybe, something quiet and soothing, maybe that would ease the loneliness in his mind.

He doesn’t do anything but lie in bed until he falls asleep, at some point. He won’t be able to remember in the morning.

~~~

The school walls are a dreary cement grey color with far too many splotches of brightly colored gum and spitballs. Jack has yet to see a desk that doesn’t have a carving of some sort, let alone a chalkboard that’s been cleaned in the last ten years. The cart they use to roll in the TV on movie days is pushed off in the corner, a mess of cords tangled on the lower platform, and Jack finds his eyes carrying through the wires in hopes of finding the plug at the end. It’s mindless and he wonders if this is somehow representative of what his life is going to be like here.

The pretty girl with the shiny blonde ponytail in the front of the classroom pops her electric pink bubblegum and gets scolded by the teacher, and Jack watches her slyly stick it to the underneath of the desk when the teacher turns his back. He makes a note not to engage with her. The instructor starts writing, the high pitched _screech_ of the chalk sending chills down Jack’s spine, and he wonders if he can even find the energy to pick up his pencil. Only one year here, that’s the deal — assuming he gets into a college in Providence.

“Hey.”

Jack looks up, sees the tall, toned boy who’s next to him is staring right at him. He’s conventionally attractive, with kiwi green eyes and sharp cheekbones, long fingers and dirty blond hair that’s styled to perfection. He’s also wearing a school baseball shirt. Jack didn’t even know they had a baseball team. Or any sports team. He hasn’t done much research into this school considering he’s only here for his senior year. He doesn’t care enough about the logistics of this high school when he’s not going to stick around the area.

“Hi,” he says back.

“I’m John. John O’Callaghan. You’re new, right? I’ve never seen you before.”

Jack nods. “Yeah, we just moved here. I’m Jack.”

“Cool. Nice to meet you. I’m guessing you haven’t met anyone yet, so do you want to sit with me and my friends at lunch? Y’know — civil, hospitality, shit like that.”

Jack shrugs. John hasn’t given him much to go off of, but an invite is an invite, and Jack will take it without questioning too much. If he can weasel his way into a friend group on the first day, he’ll be shocked. “Sure,” he agrees. “Thanks.”

John gives him instructions on where to meet him, and then the teacher snaps at him to stop talking and Jack hopes that John hasn’t just put a target on him on his first day. The other boy looks at him and rolls his eyes, grins widely afterwards to let him know that everything’s fine, and Jack thinks that maybe John is cool. And he has the brightest smile Jack’s ever seen from anybody.

He finds him at lunch without too many problems, thankfully. John introduces his friend group, all of whom are on the baseball team as well — “That’s Garrett, he’s sort of quiet but he’s cool, Garret, don’t be shy. That’s Kennedy, he’s my main man, if you ever need anything, go to him and he’ll always know how to help. That’s Pat, he hasn’t cut his hair in years and somehow it’s still luxurious and long and healthy, so if you need hair tips, he’s got you. And then there’s Jared, who’s mostly focused on his girlfriend, but he’s a good guy. The rest of the team is cool too, but they usually sit somewhere else, so you don’t need to worry about who they are.”

“Got it,” is all Jack says in response, because he’s already forgotten most of their names. 

“So. Where you from?”

“Uh. Rhode Island. Providence.”

“Really? Why’d you come out here?”

“My mom’s job.”

“Huh,” John says, and he gives him a curious look. “I don’t wanna sound sexist or whatever but isn’t it usually a dad’s job that makes the family move? Not that women can’t have the same jobs as men, but I guess I’ve never heard of a woman’s job moving the whole family.”

Jack smiles a little. “I dunno. My dad is a carpenter so he can sort of move wherever. My mom is the top advertiser of the company she works for and they opened a new location here, so she had to move so she could take over this location and get things started faster. Plus a pay raise, I think.”

“Huh. That’s cool. Female power.”

“Sure.”

John catches sight of someone walking by, a tall boy who’s got a grey beanie tugged over soft brown hair, a worn dark denim jacket pulled over a plain white t-shirt and tighter black jeans wrapped around long, slender legs. There are circles under his eyes, more prominent than most but not as dark as exhausted adults typically have, but Jack’s guessing that they’re not a permanent look for him — maybe he was used to staying up late and sleeping in during the summer and hasn’t adjusted to the early school time. “Hey, Teddy Boy!”

The boy seems to slump a little, lets out a heavy sigh and turns to John. “Are you ever gonna give it a rest, O’Callaghan?”

“Ah, come on, for old time’s sake,” John teases with that radiant grin. “Aren’t you gonna say hi to our newest student? This is Jack, he’s a senior.”

“I’ve got places to be,” the boy says with an eye roll, and then he stalks off, leaving John to laugh to himself and shake his head.

“That’s Alex,” he explains. “Gaskarth. He’s a junior. He doesn’t have any friends, I don’t think, but he seems to like it that way. He’s pretty quiet and sort of weird and doesn’t really interact with anyone, so don’t take it personally that he doesn’t care about you. I only know him ‘cause we used to be in the same grade in elementary school, but I skipped a grade so I’m only sixteen — almost seventeen! — even though I’m a senior.”

“Ah. I was held back a grade so I’m already eighteen.” John doesn’t need to know that. But whatever. It’s out now. “Why’d you call him Teddy Boy?” he asks curiously, because _Alex Gaskarth_ doesn’t sound anything like _teddy boy_.

“Oh, it’s this old joke from elementary school. He moved here from England in second grade, I think, and he’s always listened to pop punk kind of music and dressed like he goes to punk concerts all the time, and I guess he fits in with some British subculture called Teddy Boys. Someone’s parent probably said it to their kid and it got passed down the line like a game of telephone. It’s mostly died down now, but sometimes people still call him that.”

“Does he not like it?”

“I think he’s indifferent. I dunno. He doesn’t say much.”

Jack watches as _Teddy Boy_ leaves the cafeteria, no food in hand, and Jack briefly wonders if he’s really happy being friendless or if no one has given the British pop punker a shot. John’s right, though, he does dress like he goes to punk concerts all the time. Teddy Boy had a vibe — something distinctly apathetic and cold, with a tinge of something that Jack couldn’t quite place.

~~~

Jack stares into the abyss of his locker at the end of the day. John’s locker is in a different stairwell, so Jack’s left along for this. Everyone else’s is decorated somehow, with magnets or photos or stickers, and Jack doesn’t know what he should do with his. Besides, he’ll only be here for this school year. He’s not sure how much use it is to decorate a stupid high school locker that he’ll forget about after he graduates.

“Ay, Teddy Boy, who you gonna rough up tonight?” someone calls from down the hallway, and Jack looks up to find Alex adamantly ignoring the comment as he dials the lock on the locker that’s one down from Jack’s. Jack feels a smidge of guilt — he’s pretty sure he’s responsible for starting back up the _teddy boy_ joke that John claimed had been put to rest in recent years.

“It’s cool to be part of a subculture,” Jack says, and Alex doesn’t look at him as he pulls his locker open. “I mean. Y’know. That’s how John explained it to me.”

There’s a pause between them, and Jack suddenly thinks that maybe he shouldn’t have tried to interact with Alex at all, let alone by mentioning his old nickname that he’s clearly not fond of. But then the boy looks at him fully for the first time, unfaltering eye contact and an emotionless expression, and states firmly, “I’m not,” and Jack swallows thickly.

“Not what?”

“Part of a subculture.”

“Oh. Okay. Well. John said you listen to pop punk, right? That’s… I mean, I listen to it too. Sometimes I listen to it to fall asleep. It’s soothing, I think.”

Alex raises a thick, manicured eyebrow as he goes back to digging through his locker. “You must not know anything about pop punk, then.”

“Do you?”

The boy gives him a tired look. “I’m a _teddy boy_ , aren’t I?”

“I think it’s nice. Listening to it to fall asleep, I mean.”

“Pop punk isn’t soothing,” Alex says in a matter-of-fact sort of tone. “It’s not meant to be soothing. You’re missing the whole point of the music genre if you’re listening to it to fall asleep.”

With that, he closes his locker and walks away, and Jack is left alone to stare after him, thinking that maybe he just insulted Alex Gaskarth in the one conversation he’s had with him. A great way to start off his first day, he thinks.

~~~

“How’s your new school?” his mother asks across the dinner table. Jack wishes he’d been one of the older siblings in the family, able to move out before they had to move states, and then he wouldn’t be the one trapped in an undecorated dining room with his parents, answering stupid, meaningless questions about his education that he doesn’t care about.

“It’s fine.”

“Did you talk to anyone?”

“Sort of. Some of the baseball team.”

“Oh, that’s nice! Are you thinking about trying out?”

“No.”

That’s the extent of his contribution to the dialogue. His mother turns to his father to strike up a conversation about their work days, and Jack eats quietly. Maybe he should get a job so he can spend less time at home and be able to make some money. Maybe he should focus on becoming friends with some people, maybe John. Maybe he should talk his parents into letting him get a pet so he wasn’t so lonely here.

He retires to his room after he’s excused, falls on his back on the bed and stares at the painfully white ceiling. He considers calling Zack and asking how things are back home, but Zack is probably out skateboarding or at a party with the friends that Jack used to have, before he was forced to move. Besides, he thinks he’d just be bitter and jealous hearing about how normal Zack’s life still is without him.

Part of him feels guilty for resenting his parents. His mother didn’t ask to be moved, but if she wanted to keep her job and get a raise, she had to. She makes most of the income anyway, and they couldn’t afford for her to be demoted. But ten months before graduation isn’t much time for Jack to settle into a new area and make real, long-lasting friends like he did back in Rhode Island. He’s been friends with Zack since third grade. He doesn’t have that opportunity here. He wonders how soon he could go back to Rhode Island, thinks that maybe he could go to college there. He won’t mention that to his mother, though; he knows she’s sensitive about him disliking their new circumstances. He’s already upset her by expressing his distaste for the town.

He thinks back to what Teddy Boy said about pop punk — how he’s missing the point if he finds it soothing enough to fall asleep to. He’s curious about just how much the other boy _does_ know about pop punk. He doesn’t want to overstep any delicate boundaries by asking, especially since Alex seems to be bitter about his assumed subculture association. Jack suddenly finds himself wishing that he had a computer so he could look up the history of teddy boys and maybe decipher why Alex is so annoyed by the nickname.

Regardless, he falls asleep listening to Green Day.

~~~

He sits with John at lunch again the next day. John’s a little too upbeat for his liking, sort of loud and talkative and nosy, but Jack will take his company over having no one. He’s just not sure how John can be so peppy and enthusiastic at eight in the morning while they’re stuck inside of a cement box with minimal windows. John talks about pretty girls, gives him the rundown of which girls to avoid and which girls are nice and which girls are taken. Jack isn’t really looking for a relationship in all of this; he’d rather go in and get out as soon as he can. He can find a relationship back in Providence.

So he stays quiet for most of the lunch period, picking aimlessly at the sandwich he’s brought and eating a few chips. He’s not very hungry. He learns a lot just from listening to John talk with the others, and they all try to engage Jack in the conversation, but he doesn’t know anything about baseball and can’t participate in any gossip about their classmates and honestly, he just doesn’t care. No one in this group has captured enough of his attention to make him want to meaningfully interact. 

Alex breezes by the table, and Jack suddenly finds a folded note next to his bag of chips. He looks up at him to find him gone already, and John looks at him curiously. “Did he just give you something?” Pat asks. “Dude, Teddy Boy is fucking weird. Does he know that people think he’s weird?”

“What does the note say?” John asks, and Jack hesitates to open it because he has a strong feeling that Alex doesn’t want this to be shared.

_To: Jack_

_From: Jack from Another Timeline_

“Nothing,” Jack says, and he crumples the note and drops it into his backpack so he can look at it again later. “It doesn’t say anything.”

“What the fuck. That kid is so socially stunted.”

In his last class of the day, Jack finds himself next to a brunette who keeps glancing at him. He doesn’t respond to any of it, isn’t particularly interested in whatever this girl is trying to do, but clearly she’s persistent because as the bell rings, she taps him and smiles and says, “Hi. I’m Janelle.”

“Hi,” Jack offers plainly. “Jack.”

“Yeah, I know. I mean — I’ve heard. You’re new. I know you’re sort of friends with John and his friends already, but I was wondering if maybe you’d want to study together sometime? We could go to the library or something, or maybe meet at a coffee shop on the weekend…”

“Uh… maybe, yeah.”

Janelle practically lights up with a bright smile, and Jack can’t help but notice how much mascara she’s coated on her lashes. “Awesome,” she chirps. “What’s your phone number?”

Jack rattles it off, tells her that she’ll probably get one of his parents before she’ll get him on the line, and as he walks to his locker, he finds himself praying that she doesn’t call. He’s not sure why he’s attracting all the chipper, outgoing people in this school. He misses Zack and his quiet exterior and his gentle chuckle as opposed to Janelle’s abrasive, penetrating voice or John’s loud laughter.

Alex isn’t by his locker when Jack’s there. He retrieves the note from his bag, though, rereads what Alex has scrawled in his silky smooth handwriting, and he finds himself wondering if this is some kind of trick for saying that he finds pop punk soothing.

_To: Jack_

_From: Jack from the Future Timeline_

_1883 AM, midnight tonight. Jack from another timeline will thank you._

~~~

It takes Jack a few tries to find the box that his radio is in. And it takes him a few tries to find the box that his headphones are in. Why he didn’t put all his electronics in the same box, he doesn’t know, but he’s able to figure it out before midnight, which is all that really matters. He’s genuinely curious to see what this radio channel is — maybe Alex is setting him up with music that he finds soothing to fall asleep to, or maybe it’s the pop punk genre explained, or maybe it’s total bullshit intended to waste his time. But he’s not going to skip an opportunity to get a little more inside the head of Teddy Boy.

He tunes in at midnight and is met with a soft, quiet musical tone, and then there’s a voice that comes along the line. Jack’s only heard it in one brief conversation, but he knows that’s Alex. He can tell even though the sound quality is grainy, and he’s not sure when Alex’s voice made such an impression on his mind.

**Alex**

_Hello listeners, and welcome back to Ground Control. For those of you who frequent our late night channel, I hope you’re doing well, and for our new listeners, I’m your host, Sunshine Boy. Who’s on the line tonight? Caller one, you’re on the air._

**High Pitched Adult Woman**

_Hi Sunshine, Lisa here!_

**Sunshine Boy**

_Hi, Lisa, glad to have you back again. How are you? What’s new in your world?_

**Lisa**

_Well, I know some of our listeners know me as the antique lady, so I wanted to share my latest find — a few old license plates from all the way in California! The shop owner said they date back to the 20s, and they’re just the coolest. I’m already looking forward to hanging them around my house._

**Sunshine Boy**

_Lisa, your ability to scope out the most unique and historically fascinating finds will never fail to amaze me. I can only imagine that your beauty matches your wit and your talent without fail. Maybe one of these days we’ll run into each other in the great unknown and you could help me pick out some classic pieces._

**Lisa**

_Sunshine, I think you and I are meant to be in one lifetime or another._

**Sunshine Boy**

_You may be right, darling. Thank you for sharing, Lisa, and I hope these late night insomnia challenges don’t plague you too much. Before we take our next caller, I’d like to share a song that’s near and dear to my little heart. Here’s Lost in Yesterday by Tame Impala._

Jack closes his eyes and listens. It’s definitely not pop punk — it’s more pop, if anything, but it’s a good song, and it goes too fast for Jack to actually listen to the lyrics and try to determine why it’s near and dear to Alex, but he likes it. And he feels like Alex is letting him in on something personal and private by telling him to listen to his own radio talk show.

**Sunshine Boy**

_And we’re back, I hope you all felt that pressure on your brain ease a little. Let’s take our next caller. You’re on the air, caller._

**Young Male**

_Hey, Sunshine, Chip Skylark on the line._

**Sunshine Boy**

_[laughter] Hi, Chip. How are you and your shiny teeth tonight?_

**Chip Skylark**

_As bright as ever, I tell you! Listen, Sunshine, I had a question for you. How’d you come up with your alias? Not to say you aren’t a ray of sunshine on these late night talks._

**Sunshine Boy**

_Good question, Skylark. No one’s ever called me a ray of sunshine before, so I appreciate that. Most people who know me wouldn’t consider me to be a sunny person, but most people don’t know my personality. I get a lot of judgment based on how I look, so I tried to find an alias based more on my personality, which, if people got to know me, is sunshine-y._

**Chip Skylark**

_Why don’t people get to know you? You’re certainly one of the most interesting folks I’ve ever heard of._

**Sunshine Boy**

_Well, Chip, the world is cruel. I can only hope our listeners and our callers have had a better experience with the general public than I have._

**Chip Skylark**

_Sunshine, I wanted to share with our listeners something positive that happened to me recently. Something that’s been a factor in my insomnia._

**Sunshine Boy**

_A positive player in insomnia? I’ve never heard. Do share._

**Chip Skylark**

_I met a girl. A girl I already know I’m going to marry one day. She’s smart and beautiful and witty and dedicated. We’ve only gone on one date but I already know she’s the one. I haven’t been able to sleep lately because I can’t stop thinking about her._

**Sunshine Boy**

_Chip, that’s wonderful. I’m very happy for you. I hope it all works out for you; she sounds like a lovely lady. And maybe one of these nights, her company will rest your body enough to sleep. With love on the mind, let’s take a few minutes to listen to one of the more popular love songs of today — I like to picture myself on the forest floor for this one, letting moss and weeds grow over my sleeping body. Here’s In a Week by Hozier._

Jack finds himself carried away in the low, eerie quality of the Irish singer’s voice, and he does feel his eyelids getting heavier as he focuses on the soft, slow plucking of guitar strings. Alex’s voice is soothing and he has such a sweet laugh, and Jack really does feel that sunshine quality coming through his headphones. He wonders why Alex has never let anyone see it in person. Instead, here he is, with his own late night talk show for insomniacs, with callers of all ages ringing in to talk about their lives. It’s a channel for lonely folks who have no one else to share their days with, no close family or friends, and it dawns on Jack that now, he fits into that group too. Maybe Alex knew that from the beginning.

~~~

Jack knows better than to mention the show to Alex. He doesn’t mention it to anyone, but it lives in the back of his brain now, the smooth voice of the boy almost serenading him through the headphones, the high-pitched exuberance of antique collector Lisa, the mellow humor perpetually coloring Chip Skylark’s voice — they all knew each other deeply, despite having never met. He could hear it in Alex’s voice that he loved these callers, and they weren’t shy about their affections towards him either.

So they were his friends. Jack imagined there were more callers who hadn’t called in last night. John assumed he was friendless and anti-social, but that wasn’t the case. In fact, Alex was incredibly social, talking with strangers on a late night talk show that he hosted. Maybe not social in the conventional sense, but he liked to talk, clearly. And he obviously has an affinity for music. Jack can’t stop thinking about it, about him, about all the questions he has, but he knows he can’t just start talking to him at school.

Alex doesn’t even acknowledge his existence the following day. Jack’s never seen the person who occupies the one locker between them, but he and Alex are there at the same time. The other boy spins the lock dial silently, opens the locker and slides his textbook inside. Jack glances at him and offers a smile, some kind of acknowledgment to let him know that he listened, but Alex doesn’t look at him. So Jack just grabs his keys from his locker, figures he’ll maintain this odd method of communication between them if that’s what Alex wants.

At least, until Alex looks him dead in the eye, the same way he did the other day, and says, “I suppose we’ll rendezvous next week,” and Jack doesn’t have time to decipher that and think of a reply before Alex is turning on his heel and abandoning him.

It’s a Wednesday. They still have two full days left of school before the weekend, so Jack’s not sure what Alex means by _next week._

_~~~_

“Why don’t you get out and do something? Text a classmate?”

“I don’t have any friends anymore.”

“What about the kid you sit with at lunch?”

“He has friends.”

“Jack, come on, put yourself out there a little! You sure won’t meet anyone by sitting at home all the time.”

She’s right, but Jack doesn’t know how to explain to her that he doesn’t care about meeting people. And he doesn’t care about doing things. He would if they were still back at home where his friends were, but he doesn’t have the energy to put into socializing right now. The ache of loneliness has been settled in his bones since they moved, waxing and waning in different rhythms but never gone. He’s considered going back home on a weekend to see Zack, but he knows he can’t cling to Zack forever. 

Janelle calls that night. Jack doesn’t really want to talk to her, but he takes the phone anyway because his mother looks _thrilled_ that a girl wants to talk to him. “Hi,” he greets, forcing some level of enthusiasm into his voice as he winds the curly cord around his finger.

“ _Hi, Jack,_ ” Janelle says in her chirpy voice. “ _I was wondering if you were free this weekend? Some of my friends are getting together for a birthday party so if you want to come hang out with us, that’d be super fun._ ”

“Like a party?”

She giggles across the line and Jack finds himself rolling his eyes at the sound — he’ll have to make sure not to do that in person. “ _Sort of, yeah,_ ” she confirms. “ _So maybe I could give you the address in class tomorrow? Or we could go together?_ ”

“Maybe, yeah,” Jack agrees flatly, leaning against the wall of the kitchen and looking out the window into the backyard. 

“ _Okay, great. It was nice talking to you, Jack._ ”

“Sure. You too.”

“ _Goodnight._ ”

All Jack can hear is Alex’s voice in that word, the melodic tune coming over the radio at one in the morning as he murmured, “ _Thanks for tuning in to Ground Control this week, listeners. I hope to hear from you next week, and goodnight, folks._ ”

There’s a twist in his stomach that he’s felt every time Alex pops into his head, he realizes. Something he’s never felt before. It’s somewhere between uneasy and excited, a quick wave of unfamiliarity that cools his gut and makes his heart race as it washes into the crater of his chest and licks over the confines of his ribs. There’s something about the way the boy’s voice slips in his head, like a snake curling gracefully around a target but not yet squeezing, and the way his eyes pierce Jack’s until he’s speechless, like he’s hypnotized. He wonders if Alex knows he has this effect on him, or if he has this effect on anyone else. 

“Did you get asked on a date?” his mother asks hopefully, and Jack realizes he’s been staring out the window to the backyard since he hung up.

“Uh… I don’t know. It’s just a party.”

“A house party?”

“A birthday party.”

“Who’s it for?”

“The, uh… friend of the girl who called. I don’t know. She just asked if I wanted to go.”

His mother beams, all bright eyes and pink cheeks. “Are you going to go? You should go, Jack. You need to socialize a bit. I’m worried that you’re depressed, and locking yourself in your room all the time isn’t going to help, you know? You need to make some friends.”

“I don’t really care about making friends,” Jack reminds her. “I miss my old friends.”

Joyce sighs heavily, steps closer and cups his face, rests their foreheads together. “Sometimes you remind me of home,” she says softly. “Lebanon. You’re so different than everyone here in America. You have this… _exotic_ personality and you don’t want to show it to anyone. You don’t want to let anyone in. Your relatives were all the same. Why can’t you try to fit in here? Why can’t you make this easy on yourself?”

The guilt that sharpens its knife in his gut shines under the kitchen light as she speaks. Jack’s never felt like such a disappointment to his family before — sure, he’d gotten poor grades here and there or made a bad decision once or twice, but his mother is commenting on his personality here, his core self, how he isn’t living up to her standards. The standards that would make her happy. He knows she and his father worked impossibly hard to come to America to escape the war so he didn’t grow up in a ravaged country, and here he is, throwing a fit about moving states when she moved across the world for him.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbles, wraps his arms around her. “I’m sorry. I’ll go to the party.”

~~~

Janelle definitely intended for this to be a date. Jack picks her up from her house at 8 on Saturday evening, and he didn’t really mean to walk himself into a date tonight, but he realizes that that was probably the goal because she looks nicer than usual. She’s wearing low-rise boot-cut jeans and a tube top with her hair straightened, her makeup all done up, and Jack feels obligated to compliment her, so he does. It’s not that she’s unattractive, or even not his type, but he just doesn’t care about romance right now. He doesn’t care about a relationship.

It’s a pretty casual party compared to the ones he’d been to back in Providence. Jack’s never been huge on partying anyway; he’ll enjoy a few drinks, but he’s never been a fan of smoking or getting hammered. And it’s not a crazy party — there’s alcohol and weed, but it’s certainly not anything that’ll get the cops called on them. It’s mostly people he doesn’t know, but he’s introduced to everyone, not that he’ll ever remember. John’s there, but he’s obviously busy trying to woo one of the other girls, so Jack doesn’t interrupt.

They play a bunch of pop songs, one after the other, from Britney Spears to Christina Aguilera to Jay Z, and as Jack swallows down his third drink, his mind drifts to the music Alex had played on the radio show the other night, how velvety and calming it’d been, and Jack feels that same sense of longing he’s been carrying around as it swells up in his chest again.

He slips outside after a while, sits on the steps behind the house in the backyard and looks out at the trees behind the fence. It’s a comfortable night, and with the buzz of the alcohol and the distant noise of the music and the chattering and the laughter that he’s not involved in, Jack looks up at the stars and prays that he’ll get to go home soon. To Providence, where his best friend is, his best friend who hasn’t called. His best friend who has other best friends. Remembering that he’s not Zack’s only friend makes him even sadder, and maybe his mother was right, maybe he is depressed.

Janelle sits next to him with a mixed drink in her hand and he snaps out of his daze, doesn’t want to look so sad in front of a girl he barely knows. “What are you doing out here?” she asks with a smile. “Everyone’s inside.”

“I just needed some air,” he dismisses, and she hums.

“Are you having fun?”

“Yeah, it’s cool.”

“Awesome. I’m glad.”

Jack doesn’t respond to that, just looks back out at the backyard. He’s not trying to be rude, but he isn’t in the mood to party tonight. She moves a little closer to him, rests on his shoulder, and he doesn’t stop her because it’s sort of nice to touch someone. Maybe a relationship _is_ what he needs, maybe some physical contact and an intimate love would do him some good. He’s not looking for it in this girl, though.

“Are you always this quiet?” she asks, looking up at him, and he smiles.

“It takes a bit for me to be comfortable.”

“You don’t have a girlfriend, right? No one back home?”

Jack shakes his head. “No girlfriend.”

There’s another pause between them, and then she’s turning his face towards her and kissing him. She tastes like strawberry chapstick and fruit punch with too much vodka and it’s not something Jack will be craving in the future, but he kisses back anyway. He hasn’t kissed anyone in a long time and it’s temporarily filling the lonely void that’s threatening to burst in his gut, so he submits to the alcohol in his system and lets himself enjoy this.

He sobers up after that, knows he needs to be able to drive her home, so he doesn’t drink anymore. They leave around one, and she’s still drunk, talking and talking and talking on the drive, but Jack doesn’t entertain her. He mostly tunes her out, lets his mind wander to his memories of parties back in Providence, dates he went on with girls who never understood him, girls he kissed and let down easily, and he hopes she’ll remember this conversation tomorrow.

“Look,” he says before she gets out of the car, and he thinks she’s sober enough to comprehend this. “I’m… not looking for a relationship right now. You’re cool but I don’t want to lead you on, and I probably shouldn’t have kissed you.”

“Oh,” she says. “Okay. Well, thanks for telling me, at least. Sorry for kissing you.”

“It’s okay. No hard feelings?”

“Nah. We’re cool. Thanks for driving me home, Jack.”

“Sure.”

~~~

“I heard you kissed Janelle,” John states from beside him on Tuesday, and Jack sighs heavily, spinning the dial on his lock for a second time since the first time didn’t work. “I didn’t even know she asked you out, dude. That’s awesome.”

Alex is at his locker as well, surely listening in on this conversation, and Jack doesn’t know why but he wants Alex to know that he’s _not_ interested in that girl. “Yeah, we kissed,” he admits to John as he sorts through various papers he’d shoved in his locker, trying to find the activity he’d done the night before that’s due today. “But we’re not a thing. It was just a stupid kiss. I told her I didn’t want a relationship and she was cool with it.”

“I heard it was more than a stupid kiss.”

Jack rolls his eyes. “Okay, we made out. Hardly anything to gossip over. It wasn’t anything intense or suggestive. Just a kiss.”

“We’ll find you someone,” John assures, clapping a hand on his shoulder. “You’re new and attractive — the rest of us have competition.”

With that, John walks away, leaving Jack alone with his locker, his papers, and Alex’s radiating presence next to him. He looks over at the boy, takes in the circles under his eyes that he’s now sure are more permanent than others their age and the inquisitive, wise irises that track his every move, and Jack feels that unfamiliar twist in his stomach again as Alex finally looks back at him.

“Hi,” is all Jack stupidly manages to get out, and Alex just stares at him until Jack feels his cheeks flush pink in embarrassment, and then the other boy closes his locker and retreats down the hall, leaving Jack to wonder what the fuck is wrong with him.

His mother interrogates him about Janelle over dinner that night. Jack hasn’t mentioned her since the party, hasn’t told her that they kissed or that he rejected her, and he doesn’t want to see the excited light in her eyes die out when he tells her. But he can’t let her think that he’s suddenly got a girlfriend.

“I turned her down,” he mumbles, ripping his slice of garlic bread into pieces. “We… sort of kissed at the party and I told her I wasn’t interested.”

“Why aren’t you interested?” his mom asks, and Jack can hear the plea in her voice. “Don’t you want a girlfriend?”

He shrugs noncommittally. “It’s not really a priority right now. I dunno, it just didn’t feel right being with her. I didn’t even really want to go on the date with her. I mean, she wasn’t upset or anything. It wasn’t a big deal.”

Joyce is quiet from the other end of the table and Jack refuses to look at her. He can feel the disappointment without seeing her face. His father is quiet too, and he knows that’s because he doesn’t want to bring up anything else that might upset Joyce further. The rest of dinner is silent.

His mother catches him in the kitchen as he helps them clean up. Jack’s always been close with her, closer than he’s been with his father, mostly because she puts in more effort with him, so he feels sick for disappointing her time and time again. “I’m not mad,” she promises softly, brushing his hair from his forehead. “I’m just worried about you.”

“I’m fine,” he insists. “I’m just not used to it here.”

“I know, baby. I just want you to be happy.”

He doesn’t mention that he’s unhappy because she moved him away from his home.

At midnight, he tunes his radio to 1883, puts the headphones over his ears and lies back on the pillows, waits for it to switch into Alex’s channel. On the dot, that quiet musical tone and that soft voice fill his head again.

**Sunshine Boy**

_Hi, everyone. Welcome to this week’s Ground Control. I’m your host, Sunshine Boy. Who’s awake out there in the unknown tonight? I’ll take some callers in a minute, but I’d like to start tonight’s episode with some music, if that’s okay with everyone. It’s been a crazy week for me in my own little world, so here’s one that never fails to get my mind back in tune with my body. Baby Blue by Rence._

Jack is starting to grasp the concept of this radio show — Alex talks with other insomniacs in the region, gives them something to do while they lie awake in bed in the late hours of the night, introduces them to gentle music that’ll soothe them. Jack doesn’t understand why he’s been allowed in on this, but he won’t take it for granted. Not when Alex hasn’t let a single other person in on it.

**Sunshine Boy**

_Okay, let’s take some callers, now that we’ve all calmed some of the stress on our souls. If you’re interested in calling in to tonight’s show, our number is (410) 555-FINE. F-I-N-E. Again, that’s (410) 555-FINE. Caller number one, you’re on the air, how are you doing tonight?_

**Adult Male**

_Hi Sunshine, Talky here. I haven’t called in for a few weeks._

**Sunshine Boy**

_Talky, we’ve missed you here on the show. How’s everything going? What’s got your mind active at this hour?_

**Talky**

_I’ve had a mood today that I just can’t shake. Something feels off and I haven’t been able to write through it like usual. It’s just me in my apartment so maybe I’m just feeling lonely, but I haven’t felt like this in a long time. It’s hard to describe._

**Sunshine Boy**

_You know, I think I know what you’re saying. Energy in my life has been all sorts of upside down and all over the place. If it makes you feel any better, sweettalker, I did something so out of character last week that I’m still running through it in my mind, trying to determine what came over me. Maybe something in the greater beyond has our neurons firing differently this week. Maybe we’ll get lucky and Starlit will be joining us later to let us know what’s going on up there with the gods and the goddesses._

**Talky**

_I’m glad to know I’m not alone on that, Sunshine. Your music suggestions always inspire me to write, so that’s why I’m listening in tonight._

**Sunshine Boy**

_You got it, Talky. We don’t call you sweettalker for nothing — your tunes have always been top of my cassette stack for a reason. I hope tonight’s show can organize some of those crossed axons in your brain. Caller number two, you’re on the air._

**Deep Syrupy Woman’s Voice**

_Sunshine, you’re in luck — Starlit on the line._

**Sunshine Boy**

_[laughter] Starlit, darling, how I’ve missed that honey vibrato of yours. Can you tell us what’s going on up there? What’s got everyone in such a rut?_

**Starlit**

_We’ve got a Mars retrograde that started two weeks ago. Mars drives our ability to act, so when it’s in retrograde, we find ourselves turning our usual routines inside out. Suddenly we’re in turmoil, frustrated and confused by our own actions because they don’t feel like us or it doesn’t seem to align with our original plan of forward motion. Use this time to reexamine where you’re going, what you’re doing, and allow for rewrites of your plan._

**Sunshine Boy**

_Wow. Starlit, you introduce me to a whole new aspect of our universe every time you call, and I’m so grateful to have a space-based listener amongst us. Though this show might be called Ground Control, Starlit reminds us that the space above us impacts our beings regardless of how down to earth we think we are. I know nothing more about astrology other than the fact that I’m a Sagittarius — which I also learned from our dear Starlit. Thank you, baby girl, you’ve blessed us again._

**Starlit**

_Anytime, Sunshine._

**Sunshine Boy**

_Let’s take a break here and listen to some music to ground us again. Sometimes it’s a lot for the brain to comprehend what’s going on down here and what’s going on up there at the same time, so I recommend everyone close their eyes and breathe through this one. Let your breath following the beat, start slow and build. Picture yourself running, imagine your bare feet hitting fresh soil. Ease out slow at the end. Here’s Higher Ground Reprise by Odesza._

Jack finds himself pulling his phone off the hook and dialing the number Alex had listed off at the beginning of the show. He slides the headphones off and presses the phone to his ear, finds his heart racing with anxiety over doing this. But if he’s going to participate on any show, it’ll be this one, while Alex hits right on everything he’s been feeling lately. It’s refreshing to know he’s not alone.

**Sunshine Boy**

_I hope our listeners tonight are feeling a sense of freedom from this show — I know I am. I can’t tell you how grateful I am to hear that I’m not the only one who feels like he’s going a little crazy out here on his own. Caller number three, you’re on the air._

**Jack**

_Oh — um, hi, my name is — I-I’m… Boy Exotic, and I’ve never called before._

**Sunshine Boy**

_Welcome to the show, Boy Exotic. I like your alias. What’s got you on the line tonight?_

**Boy Exotic**

_I… I just felt connected, I guess. I’ve been going through some big changes lately and I feel like I’m at odds with what I want and what I need. Like Talky said, I’m feeling lonely in a way I can’t seem to grasp._

**Sunshine Boy**

_Well, it seems like we’re all in a big of a strange spot right now. Loneliness appears to be common among us this week. Boy Exotic, how’d you end up here? What series of events led you to be with us here tonight?_

**Boy Exotic**

_I just moved to the area from out of state. I’ve always been a pretty social person but now I don’t want to be. I miss my old friends and I seem to be attracting all the wrong sorts of people here. I was… recommended to the show by a classmate. I listened last week for the first time, but my week has been weighing on me, and tonight I told my mom something that made her disappointed in me again. She left her home country in the Middle East to give me a better life here in the states and I keep disappointing her. I guess I called because I feel like I don’t belong anywhere right now._

**Sunshine Boy**

_[sighs] You know, I think the last week has been weighing on everyone. This Mars retrograde has really hit us hard, huh? If I can offer any advice to you, it’s to do what makes you happy. Your mother could never be disappointed in you for being happy. Maybe use some of your alone time to determine who you want to be as a person and who’s going to help you achieve that in yourself. I can promise you that you’re here for a reason, though. You haven’t been brought here because you don’t belong. Every move is a lesson, Boy Exotic. All systems are critical._

**Boy Exotic**

_You’re probably right. I just wish I had something to tell her that’d make her proud of me again._

**Sunshine Boy**

_Tell her you’ve made some friends. Maybe they’re not in person yet, but every time we get a new caller here on the show, you’ve become a member of our little insomniac family. You’re welcome here any time, Boy Exotic, and we hope to be hearing from you again soon. Welcome to Ground Control._

Jack hangs up then, closes his eyes as he hears Alex take another caller. That velvet voice is draped over every circuit in his brain, all the neurons that code for Alex firing at an unthinkable rate, and suddenly, Jack doesn’t feel so lonely. It’s not a perfect fix, but he thinks that maybe he and Alex are friends now, in some weird, paradoxical, cosmic sense.

~~~

There’s a note in his locker the following day. It takes him until lunchtime to even see it because it looks like yet another lost scrap of paper amidst the others, but it falls out when he slides a notebook alongside the others. He opens it to find Alex’s subtle cursive: _exhaust yourself, boy exotic. wear your body and your mind down to a sand, and then come back._

Jack has no idea what to make of that. It’s hard for him to _exhaust_ himself — insomnia has never been a factor in his life, not even now as he listens to the radio show. He stays up that late solely to listen in, even though he’s usually half asleep by one in the morning. And despite never having trouble sleeping before, he’ll admit that Alex’s silk voice has aided him into better, calmer, deeper sleep. A sleep that genuinely refreshes him. He woke up feeling rested both last Wednesday and this, and he attributes that to the creamy music and the suave flow of the other boy’s words. 

The writing lingers in the back of his mind all day, unearthing a slew of questions that he wishes he could ask the other boy. He wishes he had a class with him so he could just observe, but Alex is a grade below him, so he probably never will. He desperately wants to know if Alex has the same gravitational pull on everyone else as he does with Jack — part of him is wondering if Alex is even human. Jack’s never met anyone with the same aura, the same conflicting reviews, the same inherently calming presence. 

There’s a girl named Audrey who sits next to him in his English lecture. She’s an older senior too, already eighteen like him, and she’s pretty and not too loud and she doesn’t seem to have any other friends in the class, which Jack attributes to why they got paired up to work on a compare/contrast poster for _1984_ government policies versus the government policies in real life today. She’s not awkward or overbearing and she’s probably the most normal person Jack’s met here so far, so it’s sort of relaxing to talk with her.

“Do you get good grades?” she asks, glances up at him with the softest blue eyes he’s ever seen, surrounded by brown mascara-coated lashes, and he blinks a few times before he realizes she asked a question.

“Um — yeah, mostly, I think. As and Bs, usually.”

“Okay, cool. I take my grades pretty seriously so that’s good to hear. The last new kid we got didn’t care about his grades at all and I was paired with him for a project in science, and it was exhausting to have to keep up on all the work he didn’t do.”

“Ah. Yeah, group projects can be hard. I promise I’ll do my fair share of the work.”

She smiles, soft and neutral, and Jack finds himself wanting to brush that long, blonde hair from her eyes. She’s even prettier up close, he thinks, with smooth skin and nice bone structure and full lips. She’s tall and slender with subtle curves that suit her and she dresses well, probably coming from a family with a higher than average income, if her fashion sense is anything to go off of. But beyond her simple beauty, she’s calm and easy to engage with and Jack doesn’t find himself wishing he was alone.

“Maybe we could get together outside of class to work on it?” he suggests lightly. “If you’re around any time this weekend? I don’t have anything going on, so…”

“Sure,” she agrees. “That’d be cool.”

So this is the first person Jack’s halfway interested in trying with, apart from Alex, who’s obviously much less likely to respond to his efforts.

~~~

Audrey comes to his house on Sunday. The sun is starting to set off on the horizon, lighting Jack’s room up in a golden pink color instead of its usual bland white. Only two boxes remained unopened in the corner of his room, but he thinks the room is clean enough to have a girl in there with him. His dad is working in his study and his mom is out in the garden, so he’s hoping he isn’t going to be subject to any embarrassing comments from them for having a girl over. Besides, he already knows he doesn’t want a relationship, and he’s never had sex, so neither of those options are even on the table.

He offers Audrey the seat at his desk as he sits on his bed, and she sets her things down but doesn’t take the seat, just leans against the window and looks out at the sunset. “You have a nice view,” she says lightly, glancing back at him with a smile. “How long has it been since you moved here?”

“A few weeks,” he replies, crossing his legs beneath him. “Maybe a month. Not very long.”

“What do you think of Towson?”

He shrugs halfheartedly. “I haven’t had a lot of time to get to know it,” he chooses to say, because he doesn’t want to totally shit on this town in case she loves it. “Right now I guess I’m missing home. Providence, I mean. It’s sort of hard to find things to enjoy around here when I had a whole life back there.”

“That makes sense. I moved here when I was eleven and I remember being so mad. We came from California, y’know, the golden state, and moved to this tiny little town. I was furious. I didn’t speak to my parents for a week. I still miss home. I’m trying to keep good grades so I can go to college there. I’m nervous about applying soon.”

“Wow,” Jack says, and it feels sort of nice to talk about this with her — finally someone who halfway understands. “I bet California’s way better than here. Or Providence, for that matter.”

She shrugs with a bittersweet smile. “I don’t know that it was actually better. I think it was just home. Maybe you’d hate California because it’s not Providence.”

“… Yeah, maybe.”

She finally sits then, takes out the novel and a textbook about government and her notebook, and Jack settles in his bed with the same materials, with the exception of the government textbook. He listens to Audrey read passages from it and compare them to the novel, and her voice isn’t quite as honey-sweet or even as Alex’s, but it’s nicer than John’s or Janelle’s. His mind drifts off in a daze as he listens, and he’d like to fall asleep like this, in the pastel orange light of the sunset and wrapped up in those words that her lips curl so sweetly around.

“Are you listening?”

“What?”

She laughs lightly and Jack flushes, realizes he’s just been staring at her and daydreaming the whole time she’s been talking. “You’re staring.”

“Sorry,” he says quietly. “I got… lost somewhere.”

“Where?”

“I-I don’t know.”

“What’s the last thing you remember me saying?”

“Oh — no, I don’t mean lost in the text. Lost somewhere in my head. It’s just — you’re very pretty and your voice is really nice and I sort of… drifted, I guess.”

That’s probably an odd thing to admit to a girl he barely knows, and he starts to apologize when she smiles, a soft pink color on her cheeks. “Thank you,” she responds. “That’s sweet. I frequently get lost around sunset too, so I can’t blame you. It’s a hard time of day to try to get any work done. Everything just feels a little unreal, you know? Like it doesn’t belong.”

“Yeah,” he agrees, and her hair glows in the light. “Exactly like that. But it wouldn’t have been brought here if it didn’t belong.”

She smiles, somewhere at the crossroads of fake and real and mysterious, and Jack still can’t stop staring at her. She has a similar energy to Alex, but she feels like a flight risk. Alex’s grounded quality is part of what draws Jack in, but Audrey’s translunar aura lets Jack know that she’s simply a passerby in his life.

~~~

He calls Zack on Monday.

It’s almost ten when he calls. The line rings and rings and Jack wonders if maybe Zack’s out, despite that it’s a school night and he’s usually up around this time, but after a few rings, Jack feels his chest flood with affection and yearning as Zack’s familiar voice comes down the line.

“Hi,” he greets. “It’s Jay.”

“ _Dude, what’s up? How have you been? I’ve been meaning to call you but I didn’t know how busy you’d be-,_ ”

“It’s okay,” Jack promises with a smile, twirling the phone cord around his index finger. “I just, uh… yeah. It’s okay here. I miss Providence, though. You and everyone else. Towson doesn’t have much going on.”

“ _Really? I thought you’d like it. Small town, more people to know and be friends with, y’know? It’s impossible to make friends in the city, you know that._ ”

“Yeah, I know. No one here really gets me, though. Everyone’s nice enough but the people who actively try to include me are the people I don’t want to be friends with. There’s this baseball player named John and his four friends, and I sit with them at lunch and it’s nice that they include me, but they’ve all been friends for years so I’m the outsider. And our personalities clash ‘cause I’m older than all of them. And then there was this girl Janelle who I went to a party with as a date that I didn’t want to go on and we made out and I turned her down and now she doesn’t talk to me, but she was sort of annoying too. Not to mention I’m suddenly a constant disappointment to my mother.”

“ _Whoa, you’ve been there less than a month and you’ve already made out with a girl and infiltrated the baseball team? Jack, come on, you’re hardly failing at the social game here. Why’s your mom disappointed in you?_ ”

“I don’t want to do anything,” Jack admits. “I don’t like anyone. I don’t want a girlfriend and I don’t want to put in the effort to make friends and I guess that’s upsetting for her. She thinks I’m depressed but really, I just miss home. And I miss you and the others. I don’t have the energy to make new friends.”

Zack sighs on the other end, and Jack can picture him leaning against the wall next to his bed with the phone planted between his legs. “ _I miss you too, Jay. Seriously. It really sucks not being able to call up my best friend to hang out whenever. I guess I get what you mean by people not understanding you; the others don’t get me like you do. You haven’t met anyone worthy of your friendship?_ ”

Jack’s mind flashes to Alex — but something about his secretive relationship to the other boy gives him the sense that he shouldn’t say anything about him. “There’s a girl,” he says instead. “Kind of. Her name is Audrey. I know she’s not a real friend, though, and not a real candidate for a girlfriend either, but she draws me in. I feel like she’ll teach me a lesson somehow.”

“ _Teach you a lesson?_ ”

“Yeah, like. I feel like her presence in my life isn’t to be a girlfriend or a best friend or anything. I just think I’ll learn something from her, if she’ll let me.”

“ _… Jack, you’re so weird sometimes. I love you, man._ ”

“I love you too, Zee.”

~~~

He sees Audrey again the following night. They work at her house instead this time, around six, and Jack briefly meets her family before they go up to her room. She doesn’t have a desk, but she offers him the spot next to her on her bed and he takes it willingly, finds that he’s somewhat eager to be close to her. Her room smells subtly like pomelos, grapefruits, and sea salt, and it’s painted a light caramel color with white furniture and baby pink accent pieces decorate the room. It’s all very finely feminine, not too loud or abrasive, but it fits her personality well. 

They work for about an hour before she suggests they take a little break. Jack’s caught up in the curve of her lips and her angular jawline and those effortless curls. She’s clearly comfortable in her body and her home because she’s wearing a tight white camisole without a bra and silk pajama bottoms, and Jack’s never seen someone who looks so glamorous and relaxed all in one, but she’s beautiful. He’s trying hard not to stare at her, but he certainly noticed the smooth, full swell of them in that shirt, pretty, alluring, and tempting. He doesn’t make it obvious that he’s noticed; he keeps his eyes in all the appropriate places and doesn’t let himself get carried away in the visible bit of cleavage.

“Are you hungry at all?” she asks, and Jack shakes his head.

“I’m okay. Thanks, though.”

“So what do you like to do? For fun?”

“Um… I used to hang out with my friends, mostly. Sometimes video games, I guess. I play guitar, too, but I haven’t in a while.”

“You play guitar? That’s cool.”

“What do you like to do?”

She shrugs, twirls her hair with one finger. “I like to read and listen to music. And I like hiking and running. I like to stay active. I usually get enough socialization through school so I don’t really hang out with people on the weekends or after school.”

“You’re hanging out with me,” Jack points out, and she laughs.

“You’re nice. And you’re not too overwhelming. And you’re cute.”

Jack’s surprised at that — to hear that this stunning, model-material girl thinks he’s cute. “You just think I’m cute because I called you pretty,” he retorts, and she smiles and sits up a little and moves closer to him.

“It’s always nice to hear that I’m pretty. But you don’t feel like all the other guys at school. You seem nice. You could have made so many passes at me on Sunday or tonight and you didn’t. You aren’t even checking me out. It’s like a breath of fresh air, hanging out with someone who finds me attractive who isn’t instantly trying to get with me.”

Jack smiles and feels her hand settle on his knee. He glances down at it and swallows thickly, looks back up at her and says, “I should tell you that I don’t want a relationship right now.”

“I don’t either,” she confirms. “But I wouldn’t mind kissing you.”

“Are you sure? I don’t want to send mixed signals.”

“You don’t want a relationship and I don’t want to have sex. We can meet in the middle, right? Just kiss a little? Keep it between us?”

That doesn’t sound like the worst idea. He doesn’t know why he’s asking questions when this gorgeous girl is offering to kiss him. Janelle didn’t feel right, and Audrey isn’t a perfect fit either, but he’s attracted to her, at the least. He feels himself nod, and then her lips are on his and it’s just the right kind of kiss for him right now. It’s slow and gentle but it’s deep, a kind of intimacy that he can’t describe — lovers connected on one astral plane, but not this one. A longing and a love from another lifetime has crept into theirs, but Jack knows it’s not for them.

When he tunes into Ground Control later that night, Alex’s oenomel voice drips into his ears again and he closes his eyes, remembers Audrey’s lips sliding together with his and the faint brush of her hair on his shoulders and her breasts in that shirt, and he wonders if that’s what Alex meant when he told him to reduce down to sand.

**Sunshine Boy**

_Hi, listeners, welcome to Ground Control. I’m your host, Sunshine Boy. It’s a slow, steady night here in my area and I hope you all feel the same sense of peace creeping back into your lives after last week’s chaos. Who’s awake with me tonight? If anyone wants to call in, our number is (410) 555-FINE. Feel free to drop your real name or an alias that you think describes you. While we wait for some callers, let’s start off with Flowers by ASTN._

Jack’s discovering that Alex’s music taste ranges over virtually every genre. It’s always slower, moodier music on the show, but he’s desperate to know everything else he listens to, what cassettes he has stacked up in his car or in the corner of his room. 

**Sunshine Boy**

_And we’re back. I don’t know about you all tonight, but today’s had an interesting energy for me — I feel a longing for something I can’t name. I’m somewhere between sad and content. It was cloudy today; maybe I just need to add a little sunshine back into my life. Caller number one, you’re on the air — how are you tonight?_

**Chip Skylark**

_Hi Sunshine, Chip here. I’m doing well, actually. My insomnia isn’t any better but I’ve been happier with my life recently._

**Sunshine Boy**

_Hi Chip, good to hear from you. I’m glad to hear things are going well in your world. What has you calling in tonight?_

**Chip Skylark**

_I was curious, Sunshine — you know so much about us callers, but we don’t know much about you. Maybe each caller could ask you a question or two so we could get to know our host a little better? Your music and your words speak volumes to your personality, but I’d like to know more basics about you._

**Sunshine Boy**

_[laughter] You know, Skylark, you might be on to something. Callers and callers of the future, feel free to ask me anything you’d like to know about me — within limitations, of course, and I reserve the right to refuse to answer. Chip, what’s your question for me?_

**Chip Skylark**

_What do you think about love, Sunshine?_

**Sunshine Boy**

_I think love is beautiful. I’ve never been in love, I’ll tell you that, but I think it can come in more forms than people realize. Maybe the love you share with your best friend is deeper than the love you share with your partner. I guess that’s a controversial statement, and I hope I don’t offend anyone with it._

**Chip Skylark**

_If love comes in all forms, how can you say you’ve never been in love before?_

**Sunshine Boy**

_Okay, Chip, you got me there. I’ve fallen in love over and over with music, a sort of blooming swell of affection and admiration that fills me when I find the right song for my mood. Some days it hits more than others. You’ve recently found a girl, right Skylark?_

**Chip Skylark**

_I have, yes. I haven’t told her I love her yet, but I know I do._

**Sunshine Boy**

_When the time is right to tell her, you’ll know. I’m glad you found your lady, Chip, and I hope I answered your question to a point of satisfaction. Who else do we have the pleasure of connecting with tonight? Caller two, you’re on the air._

**Starlit**

_Sunshine, baby, guess who?_

**Sunshine Boy**

_[laughter] Starlit, my love. Your voice alone could do a dance with me, if you pleased. How are you?_

**Starlit**

_I’m doing well, love. I did have a question for you — what’s your birthday, your birth time, and your birth place?_

**Sunshine Boy**

_[gasp] Starlit, you’re surely not trying to weasel my natal chart out of me, are you? Haven’t we been over this?_

**Starlit**

_[laughter] Don’t worry, sunny, I know you won’t give it up. Typical Sagittarius. My real question for you is this: how has no one snatched up that golden little heart of yours? Have you ever had any relationship?_

**Sunshine Boy**

_I’ve never had a relationship, no. You all know me as my radio alias and you hear the best of my personality, but my peers haven’t gotten that same chance. Maybe one day I’ll meet a special someone, but it hasn’t happened yet. Don’t get me wrong — I’m not seeking it out. It’ll find me when I’m ready for it._

**Starlit**

_Maybe that’s what you’re longing for tonight, baby._

**Sunshine Boy**

_You might be right, Starlit. Let’s take a break and slow down the activity of those nocturnal neurons with some music, shall we? Here’s Ribs by Lorde._

Jack picks up the phone.

**Sunshine Boy**

_I gotta say, if I marry any woman in the world, it’ll be Lorde. Caller three, let me in on your burning thoughts and questions._

**Boy Exotic**

_Hi Sunshine, Boy Exotic here._

**Sunshine Boy**

_Boy Exotic, one of our new listeners, for those who missed him last week. Glad to hear you’re back. You felt agitated last week, I hope you’ve exhausted your system enough to calm down. What’s on your mind?_

**Boy Exotic**

_Someone recently told me that if I was listening to pop punk to fall asleep, I was missing the point of pop punk. As a music lover yourself, what can you tell me about pop punk?_

**Sunshine Boy**

_Interesting of you to bring it up, Boy Exotic. I grew up on pop punk music; it’s most of what I listen to during the day. Blink-182, Green Day, Fall Out Boy, all of them are some of my favorite artists to this day. You’ve got to understand the subculture behind pop punk, though — it’s not about falling asleep, it’s about waking up. Holding onto youth, finding love, doing drugs, getting drunk, being angry about growing up and having to get a real job and all that. There’s this layer of anxiety to it. It’s more than guitar riffs and shouty lyrics, there’s a whole history and culture in it. If you’re falling asleep to it, you’re missing the point of the stress and the anger._

**Boy Exotic**

_Maybe I should do my research, then. I gotta say, the music you play on here helps me fall asleep a lot better than pop punk._

**Sunshine Boy**

_That’s to be expected, if you’re coming here from pop punk. I’m glad you enjoy it, and I’m glad to hear someone else appreciates pop punk like I do. Let’s see here, can we find a soothing pop punk song to put on the radio tonight? Hm… I’m not finding anything off the top of my head, so let’s go with Waiting by Hippie Sabotage._

Jack hangs up.

~~~

The next few weeks are a blur. Between first exams, seeing Audrey, listening to the radio show, and the dizziness awareness that time is moving faster than he can keep up with, Jack finds himself somersaulting into October and standing up with a spinning head. He passes all his exams with high grades, thankfully, and he tells his mother that he has friends now, a girl named Audrey — who he insists he’s not dating — and a boy named Alex, even though he and Alex have never hung out, and, at this rate, probably never will.

Their interactions have been no different over the past few weeks. There aren’t any notes slipped into lockers, no conversations in the hallways as they swap out notebooks between classes, but Jack tunes into the radio every week, calls in once more, and he likes the routine. He hasn’t been able to determine what makes Alex so elusive and intriguing, and he can’t even find his peace with that — still, after two months of being here, all he wants to do is talk to him, look at him, be in his presence. He’s never felt that pull from anyone else in his life, and he thinks it has something to do with the fact that Alex couldn’t care less about him, but he still found something that made him worthy of the radio show. Jack would kill to know what that was.

But right now, Audrey is beneath him in satin pajama shorts and the same white cami she’d worn the night they first kissed. They haven’t strayed from their original agreement — Jack hasn’t asked her to have sex with him and she hasn’t asked him to be in a relationship. It works like this, and it eases some of the longing that Jack felt in his skeleton those first few weeks. It’s still there, easing up on the shores of his bones and then descending back to a low tide, but having someone to kiss and touch helps. He dips down to her neck, kisses and sucks gently at the pale skin as her hands smooth over his back under his shirt. They’ve been here before a few times, kissing necks and collarbones and letting hands wander, but Jack wants just a little more tonight, and he hopes she doesn’t qualify it as sex because he sure doesn’t. He’s never had sex, doesn’t want to do it for the first time with someone he’s not dating, who he doesn’t fully trust, but he’s done some other things that he wouldn’t mind doing again with her.

He lets his thumb hook under the thin strap of the shirt, gently sliding it off her shoulder as he follows after it with his lips. Then he moves down a little, kisses over her ribcage and lets his fingers creep in to brush against the side of her breast, a question, and she doesn’t stop him, so he cups her through her shirt, doesn’t fail to notice her nipple straining against the fabric. He kisses down more, slowly eases the shirt over her nipple so one breast falls free, and he can feel her trembling slightly under him, so he doesn’t tease as his lips circle around her nipple.

She lets out a soft breath and his cock hardens a little more; he’s always loved playing with girls’ breasts. She’s particularly beautiful, too, the swell of her breast cupped in the palm of his hand and her small nipple perked in his mouth. He thinks hers are the nicest he’s ever seen, certainly his favorite by far, and he can only imagine how beautiful her pussy is. He could spend all day here, suckling on her nipple and squeezing the full flesh. He pulls down the strap on her other shoulder, releases her other breast as well and doesn’t hesitate to move to that one, teasing the first between his thumb and forefinger. He thinks he’s decent at this, mostly because he’s enthusiastic about doing it, but really, he has no idea if girls care about nipple sucking. Audrey’s responding positively, breathing heavy and weaving a hand in his hair, so he’ll take that as encouragement. 

He’s halfway planning on spending all night like this, playing with her breasts and teasing her nipples with his tongue and his fingers when suddenly he finds that it’s not Audrey on his mind anymore, it’s Alex. And suddenly he realizes that he’s been daydreaming about the other boy replacing Audrey for a solid five minutes now, picturing that it was his sweet-nectar voice softly moaning his name instead of hers, imagining his flat nipple hard on his tongue instead of her full breast. So he pulls away, tries to get ahold of himself and not show his distress as he kisses back up to her lips, presses a few sweet kisses to them as he gently pulls the fabric back over her nipples so she’s not fully exposed. 

“I should probably go,” he whispers, teases his thumb over her nipple through her shirt. “It’s getting late.”

She nods an agreement, and they sit up from their spot against her pillows. Jack’s not so hard he can’t come back from it, so he thinks he chose a good time to stop. She walks him downstairs after he’s gathered his things, and he really does love the way her breasts bounce subtly as she moves, loves that her nipples are still evident through the fabric. 

“You’re so stunning,” he tells her as he says goodbye, and she smiles and rolls her eyes.

“Goodnight, Jack.”

“Goodnight.”

The drive home is quiet. With the windows down, he can hear the trees rustle in the fall wind, and it’s eerily quiet for a Friday night. Home doesn’t sound right, though; the company of his walkman and his silent radio won’t fill the restless yearning he feels. He wishes he had real friends for once — not just a girl to kiss and not just Alex’s dreamy voice on Tuesdays at midnight — but someone physical to hang out with, to play video games with or get drunk with. He wonders if he could find a party tonight.

The corner store practically calls his name as he drives by, the fading neon lights spelling out _Beer and Liquor_ but that’s not what he wants. He doesn’t know what he wants, he realizes as he pulls into a parking spot without much thought, maybe some hot Cheetos or a soda, or maybe he could smuggle a shot of liquor out in his pocket. The bell on the door rings as he steps inside and he scans the layout quickly, gravitates towards the snack aisle. He stares at the options for a few minutes before he looks up to see Alex two aisles over looking at gum. His muscles lock up as he looks at the other boy, his heart picking up speed within a second, and he feels a wash of awe come over him as Alex turns to leave.

He forgets all about a snack as he bolts from the store, swings the doors open to see Alex walking away. “Hey!” he calls, and suddenly he’s running after him. “Hey!”

Alex turns, looks at him with those piercing dark eyes, somehow curiously innocent and all-knowing at the same time, like he knows why Jack chased him down but can’t admit to it. “How do you do that?” Jack breathes as he slows in front of him, and Alex tilts his head, his features dimly lit from the distant blue and red of the neon sign.

“Do what?”

“You’re everywhere, h-how do you know? How do you do that?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I swear, I’m going crazy,” Jack pleads. “You’re the only thing that’s stuck and we haven’t even spoken. Why did you give me access to your radio station? Why don’t you look at me at school? Why is it only ever you who’s on my mind, and for no reason at all? I swear, you had to have drawn me into that corner store for some reason, just _tell_ me. Are you psychic? Are you a hypnotist? Do I _know_ you?”

Alex stares at him for a full minute. Jack stares right back as he pants, trying to catch his breath and recover from how fucking weird this is, and he might rip his hair out if Alex doesn’t tell him what’s going on. Why this is happening to him. 

“I told you to exhaust yourself,” Alex finally comes back with. “I didn’t draw you into that store. In this timeline, we were meant to be there together, for one reason or another. You didn’t do what I told you to do.”

“I don’t know what it means,” Jack begs. “I don’t know. You have to tell me. I don’t understand. I can’t do it if I don’t understand.”

“You’re not in control,” Alex states. “Look up.”

So Jack looks up at the stars, into the abyss of the night and the pearl sprinkles that decorate it, more visible than usual tonight. “Your body is present in this timeline,” Alex says, and Jack doesn’t look away from the stars. “Your mind and your soul are stuck in another. Force them to clash. Find something that _grounds_ you. Erode your being until you’re sand and then build yourself again. Find control of the planes that construct you. Stop thinking so much.”

Jack looks back at him, desperate for some semblance of advice that makes sense. “I don’t know how to do that,” he admits. “I’ve never eroded. I’ve never dissolved. I don’t know how to build myself again. I don’t know when I lost myself.”

“You were brought here for a reason. It’s not to live the life you had back home.”

With that, Alex turns and walks away again, and Jack is left standing in the middle of the sidewalk, still breathless and lost.

~~~

He tries to exhaust himself. He picks up running, runs until his thighs ache and burn to a chill and until his lungs threaten to collapse and until his stomach warns of a flip. He plays his guitar until his fingers bleed. He drives until his gas tank is empty and sings until his throat is raw. He licks Audrey out until she comes in his mouth, slender thighs trembling around his head, and when she leaves, he fists his cock and edges himself until he whites out as he comes. He reads until his eyes are so tired he can’t decipher the words anymore. He stares at the moon and begs for a sign that he’s doing this right.

At school, Alex takes notice of the cracked tips of his fingers and the circles under his eyes, but he doesn’t say anything, of course. Instead, he just looks at Jack with that same mysterious look in his eye, but Jack doesn’t miss the unmistakeable glint of approval with the corner of his lips crooked up in a knowing smile. And with that in mind, he keeps doing what he’s doing.

He goes to a party at the end of November. He’s planning on getting stupid drunk, thinks that would be a solid method of _eroding_. It’s maybe the most dangerous of it all, but he know when to stop pushing his limits. He’ll be relying on his drunken self to be able to determine when that is. Part of him thinks maybe he should get crossed, drift off in a hazy high for a few hours, but he decides to save that for another night. Maybe after finals as a way to reset his system. 

Four drinks in, he finds himself in the backyard alone. It’s cold out, but the alcohol is warming his blood enough for him to not be concerned. There are small lights lining the grass, but most of the light comes from the moon, nearly full, but not quite. He looks up at the stars and closes his eyes, takes himself back to Alex’s voice that night telling him to stop thinking so much. Something about it clicked, too. He feels stuck somewhere between exactly who he needs to be right now and the farthest from his true self he’s ever been.

“If you keep swaying like that, you’ll break a light.”

Of course. Jack should know that by letting that name activate his neurons, it’s a summoning. He looks over at the other boy, takes in his dark denim jeans and the white t-shirt beneath the worn leather jacket, the joint settled neatly between his fingers. 

“I didn’t know you partied,” he comes back with, and Alex shrugs, holds up the joint.

“Free weed.”

“I also didn’t know you smoked.”

“Can you tell me something you _do_ know about me?”

He’s got a point. Jack knows nothing. He gives him that one, watches him intently as he takes a hit, and it makes sense that Alex smokes, with all those wise words that come from his mouth, surely stemming from hours of high thoughts. “This isn’t my usual, you know,” the boy says, and Jack gapes at him. “I’m hardly an avid substance user.”

“Can you read minds?” Jack asks sincerely, eyes wide, and Alex laughs, but it’s not real.

“You think too highly of me.”

The way the light hits him, those big brown eyes are illuminated and his lips look pinker, fuller, especially as he slowly blows the smoke out, billowing white for a second before dissipating into the cold night air. 

“I want to kiss you,” Jack says, and Alex raises an eyebrow and then laughs humorlessly again.

“Let’s go for a walk.”

Alex slips inside for a second as Jack tries to comprehend what that means — being told they’re going on a walk only for Alex to leave — but he comes back with a beer and hands it to Jack. “I-I don’t like beer,” Jack says, and Alex just looks at him. 

“You’re not gonna erode on spiked fruit punch.”

With that, he’s undoing the latch on the side yard gate, glancing back at Jack, an invitation to come with him. So he follows him with the world around him moving unnaturally, the alcohol in his system giving him more confidence. Or maybe it’s leading him to his own death. But either way, he’s not going to turn down going on a walk with this boy, especially if it means he’ll get some answers, finally. At this rate, he’s really going on the assumption that Alex is psychic, or maybe a God on earth, or some kind of angel incarnate. But there’s no way he’s human, that’s for sure.

Alex doesn’t say anything as they walk next to each other. He takes a hit off his joint and Jack sips aimlessly at his beer, tries to keep it hidden when a car goes by so they don’t get the cops called on them. He steals glances at the other boy, those slender fingers loosely holding the joint as he brings it to his lips — those soft, pink, more than kissable lips, and Jack shoves the thought aside. He shouldn’t have told Alex he wants to kiss him. He’s never been interested in boys, only ever been with girls and thought about girls, so he’ll pin it on a Freudian slip and a few too many drinks. 

The moonlight reflects off of Alex’s hair and his leather jacket, and Jack’s almost afraid to know what the planetary positions would say about tonight. Whether it’d explain anything about why Jack can’t stop looking at the other boy or why Alex is suddenly giving him an opportunity to engage or why he wanted to kiss him. After four months of being captivated and fascinated by this boy, Alex could summon a meteor to come down on them and Jack would still walk through the burning rubble in some hopes of understanding him.

“Am I doing this right?” he hears himself ask, and Alex briefly looks at him.

“Doing what right?”

“Eroding.”

Alex shrugs. “Do you feel like you’re doing it right?”

“… I don’t know. Mostly I’m just wearing myself out every day.”

“If you feel like you’re eroding, you’re doing it right.”

“What am I doing wrong, then?”

Alex smiles, subtle and elusive. “You seem to think I’m your therapist. I’m not. You chased me down on the street and begged me for answers that I don’t have. I gave you advice. However your mind chose to interpret it is probably right for you. One person’s erosion won’t be the same as another’s. Mine was different than yours, and triggered by very different events. There is no wrong way as long as it works for you.”

A long sip of bitter beer gives Jack a moment to process that in his liquid brain. “I have a lot of questions about you,” he finally states. “Why did you tell me about your radio show? When no one else knows? What made me different?”

“I thought you were different,” Alex corrects. “I thought you weren’t going to fit in. I could see how uncomfortable you were with O’Callaghan that first day. You were quiet and judgmental and you obviously weren’t interested in making friends — Ground Control is based around late night loneliness. I thought you’d fit in.”

“I don’t?”

Alex shrugs, takes another hit. “Well, you’re friends with John now and you’re dating Audrey Miller-,”

“We’re not dating.”

“Well, you’re certainly not _not_ dating.”

“We’re just… messing around. Not even sleeping together.”

“The point remains. I thought you’d be more into the lifestyle I have. I thought you’d understand. But you don’t. At least, you haven’t shown that you do. You just want to impress me because I confused you by giving you access to something private and never speaking to you again.”

“I want to impress you because you’ve reached an understanding of yourself that I don’t have,” Jack argues. “I want to understand myself. Nothing’s made sense. I’m friends with the baseball team and I don’t even like them, but I would have if I was back home. I’m hooking up with one of the most gorgeous girls in the school and I couldn’t care less about it. The only thing I’m putting real effort into is trying to get to you. I need to reach your level of self-actualization. I can feel it. You know how to do it.”

“So it’s a survival method,” Alex states, nodding slightly. “I see now. Why all the effort, Boy Exotic? What’s so interesting about Teddy Boy?”

“Teddy Boy doesn’t interest me. Sunshine Boy does.”

Alex hums, drops the dead end of the joint on the ground and grinds it out with his shoe. “Well, you know Sunshine Boy.”

“No, I know Sunshine Boy’s radio show. That’s not all of you, I can tell.”

Alex doesn’t answer that. Jack has no concept of how long they’ve been walking, but they’re on a trail that goes through a park now, empty and dark with minimal lighting. It’s eerie to be in a park at night, the quiet squeak of play structure swings in response to the breeze and the absence of children playing or cars driving by. He has no idea what time it is now, maybe midnight, maybe later, but it’s halfway nice to walk around in the dark with this mysterious boy. 

“All this talk about timelines and shit,” Jack begins, and he thinks they’ve been walking in silence for twenty minutes. “Is that all just high thoughts?”

“I told you I’m not an avid smoker.”

“That doesn’t answer the question.”

“It’s not high thoughts. It’s philosophy.”

“What do you think about our timelines? Given all your opinions about me and what you think about yourself. I’m here for a reason, right? You asked me to walk with you because the stars aligned just right and I said yes for the same reason, right? What are your thoughts on our timelines lining up?”

“I think you worry too much,” Alex comes back with, and Jack rolls his eyes and takes a swig of the alcohol. Alex puts his hand in his pocket and comes out with another joint and a lighter, lighting up quickly and pushing the lighter back in his jacket. “And it’s _lifetimes_ that you’re referring to _,_ not timelines. But our lifetimes wouldn’t have overlapped in this timeline if they weren’t meant to. And you wouldn’t be so caught up if me if there wasn’t something to be caught up in. I wouldn’t have given you my radio show if you wouldn’t find something in it. I don’t have all the answers, you know — I’m just more willing to accept the ambiguity of it all.”

“So you agree that we’re supposed to engage.”

“To some extent, sure. Just like John’s role in my life is to resurface the Teddy Boy joke every so often. You haven’t figured out your role, though. You haven’t figured out your role anywhere in this town. You were so comfortable back in Providence that you put all your energy into going back. Relax a little. Towson is in your cards for a reason.”

“I think the reason was to meet you.”

“I think you’re drunk.”

“Well, you’re high.”

Alex leads them to a metal park table, freezing cold from the chill of the late night breeze, but the other boy doesn’t seem to care as he stretches out on his back on the tabletop and looks at the stars, takes a long hit off his joint. Jack sits on the bench seat, tries to ignore how icy the metal is, and he lets his eyes wander over the frame of his personal philosopher. The white shirt he’s wearing settles flat against his stomach, drapes over carved hipbones, and with the leather jacket hanging open on one side, Jack can take in the slenderly built structure of his chest under the fabric. His legs look longer than ever, stretched out on the table and covered in fitted black denim, tighter than most boys wear. His thighs are small — _just barely bigger than Audrey’s_ — and the prospect of looking at his ass in those jeans crosses his mind, a fleeting moment of excitement. He travels up to the boy’s face, glances over the angled jawline and the high cheekbones and the petite nose, round wise eyes surrounded by dark eyelashes and thick eyebrows, and then finally he looks at his lips. They’re thin, his lower lip fuller than the top, and they’re a pretty pink color. Jack finds himself wishing he could stroke his thumb over that lower lip before he kisses him, and he blinks a few times to rid the thought.

“Have you really never been in a relationship?”

Alex turns his head and looks at him. “Sorry?”

“You said on your show that you’ve never been in a relationship.”

“Does that surprise you? Given what you know about my reputation around here?”

“Well… you’ve kissed someone, right?”

Alex looks back up at the stars. “And who do you suppose I would have kissed?”

Jack doesn’t have an answer for that. If anyone, he would have assumed someone from a different school, otherwise John surely would have given him all the gossip he wanted to know. Not that finding out Alex’s love life is top of his priorities, but he is curious to know if anyone’s gotten through that shadowy exterior. “So… no?”

“No.”

“You don’t sound very concerned with it.”

“Should I be?”

“Well, most sixteen year olds are pretty interested in some kind of intimacy.”

“Tell me again how normal of a sixteen year old I am?”

Jack shuts up again. Alex is quick and witty, he’ll give him that. He seems bored by Jack, though, like Jack isn’t nearly at his level of intellect yet and he doesn’t have the energy to interact with someone so behind. Jack doesn’t even know why he’s trying so hard to get Alex’s approval. Or even his acknowledgment. He’s older than him. He shouldn’t be begging for a sixteen-year-old’s acceptance of him.

“Fuck,” the other boy sighs, exhaling smoke with it. “I’m too high.”

Jack grins. “That’s the most human thing I’ve ever heard you say.”

Alex laughs then, and it’s a real laugh, Jack can tell. The dimples that appear on Alex’s cheeks send his stomach into a somersault — he’s never seen Alex _really_ smile, let alone laugh. He’s gotten the brief, polite smiles on more than several occasions, but a real laugh, the one he’s only ever heard over the radio, paired with that pretty smile and those dimples… Jack’s willing to admit to his drunken self that he might be in over his head.

They stay at the table for a long time. Jack finishes his beer and Alex finishes off his joint even though he’s already too high, and Jack spends a lot of time staring out into the darkness of the park, listening to the breeze rustle the tree leaves and the late night drivers roll by and the owls hoot. Alex doesn’t move his eyes from the night sky, probably deep in his philosophical high thoughts at this point, and Jack would kill to know what he thinks about when he’s high. Whether it’s the same as usual or different. 

He feels like he’s lost a period of time because suddenly it’s not so dark — the sun is barely starting to rise off in the horizon and he blinks, looks over at Alex in the early dawn light and finds him with his eyes closed, hands folded over his stomach. “Are you awake?” he whispers, and Alex smiles a little.

“I’m awake.”

“We should go, the sun is starting to come up.”

So they start the walk back towards Jack’s house. That’s where Jack’s headed, at least; he has no idea where Alex lives. He’d gone with John to the party, so he doesn’t need to get his car, thankfully. It’s odd, walking home post-drunk with this elusive boy at dawn, maybe 4:30 or 5 in the morning. Alex doesn’t say anything and Jack’s lost his confidence with the alcohol out of his system now.

“I’m surprised you stayed out all night with me,” Alex finally says, glances up at him, and Jack shrugs.

“What better way to erode than staying out all night?”

“You’re right.”

They reach Jack’s house after a bit, and Jack turns to face the other boy, hands in his pockets. Alex just stares at him like he’s waiting for something, and Jack swallows thickly at the intense eye contact and says, “So… I guess I’ll see you Monday.”

Alex raises an eyebrow. “And I guess I’ll hear from you Tuesday.”

“Goodnight, Alex.”

“Good morning, Jack.”

~~~

**Sunshine Boy**

_Ladies and gentlemen, and those who may fall outside of that spectrum, welcome back to Ground Control. How’s everyone doing? I’m feeling good over here on my little lonesome island, and I hope you’re all feeling good as well. Caller one, you’re on the air._

**Lisa**

_Hi Sunshine, Lisa here!_

**Sunshine Boy**

_Lisa, hello. How’s everything for you tonight? Still awake, clearly._

**Lisa**

_Still awake, yep. I wanted to tell everyone about the recipe I made tonight — I have a garden in my yard where I grow fresh carrots, celery, and herbs, and tonight I made my own fresh pasta and turned it all into soup! I even cut up some farmer’s market bread to go with it using my antique bread slicer._

**Sunshine Boy**

_Lisa, it’s far too late to trigger hunger cravings… that sounds incredible. In the timeline where we’re together, I’m sure that’d be my favorite meal of yours._

**Lisa**

_One of these days if we meet, I’ll drop some off on your doorstep._

**Sunshine Boy**

_Of course you would, you’re far too generous to keep it for yourself. Thank you for sharing, Lisa, it’s always nice to hear your sweet little voice over the line at this hour. Caller two, you’re on the air._

**Boy Exotic**

_Hey, Sunshine, Boy Exotic calling in._

**Sunshine Boy**

_Why hello, Boy Exotic. What’s on your mind tonight?_

**Boy Exotic**

_I had a question for you. How would you go about hanging out with someone who couldn’t care less about your existence?_

**Sunshine Boy**

_Well, here’s a follow-up question for you — does this person know who you are? Have you interacted before?_

**Boy Exotic**

_A few times, yes. It never feels real, though. It feels like a dream, being with him. I can’t get him off my mind for some reason._

**Sunshine Boy**

_If this person engages with you, then surely they couldn’t care less about you. Some people take a little more persistence than others. Try to find something to bond over, maybe._

**Boy Exotic**

_What if this person’s way smarter than me? About everything?_

**Sunshine Boy**

_Intelligence is an illusion, Boy Exotic. It’s all subjective. You have your wits and this other person has theirs — it’s not a hierarchy, but a little competition can be fun. Take that as you will, though, and don’t hold me accountable if it goes wrong. Before we take our next caller, let’s ease into a little piece by Daughter. Here’s Youth._

_~~~_

He leaves a cassette tape in Alex’s locker. 

He’s not subtle about it — he can’t be, because he doesn’t know the boy’s locker combination and a cassette tape doesn’t slide through the slots — so he waits until Alex has opened his locker, and then he breezes behind him and slyly slips it inside, doesn’t turn back to see his reaction as he heads out to the parking lot to go home. It’s not a particularly special cassette, but it’s one of his favorites, John Mayor’s Continuum. Chances are Alex has heard most of the songs already, but he’s hoping the gesture means more than the music itself.

After a few days, he thinks maybe that was the wrong move. Alex hasn’t acknowledged it at all, hasn’t even acknowledged _him_ farther than a brief glance by their lockers one day, and Jack’s just about to give up on this whole idea of interacting with him when suddenly there’s a envelope on the passenger seat of his car at the end of the day. He’d left his window open a crack to allow the breeze to freshen the upholstery, and of course _Alex_ would have figured out the stealthy way to deliver a cassette to him instead of just dumping it in his locker like he’d done. 

He listens to it over the course of the next few days. It’s a mixed cassette with Alex’s calligraphy print on the label: _erode._ Because of course. There’s all sorts of artists on it, from blink-182 to Harry Styles to obscure instrumentals that Jack has never heard of. He loves each and every one, though; he’s walking around with this cassette playing on repeat in his head all the time. He listens to it over and over and over trying to determine what inspired Alex to include each song, or maybe determine why he likes it so much, but he comes up empty. 

Still, though. A fully successful exchange with Alex Gaskarth. And he got something meaningful in response, not some cryptic philosophy novel that he’d never understand. Maybe Alex knows he’s not smart enough for that. He needs to figure out an appropriate response now, something that matches the beaux-esprit’s mind.

Alex beats him to it. He opens his locker on the following Friday — two weeks after he’d given Alex the cassette, one week after Alex had dropped the mixtape in his car — and there’s a note with that signature scrawl: _samedi, 8 heure_ with an address listed at the bottom. Jack’s grateful he took two years of French back in Providence, otherwise he’d be lost in the library looking for a translation textbook. Of course Alex would write to him in French after he’d thought of him as _beaux-esprit —_ Jack is less and less convinced that he’s not psychic as every day passes.

Saturday evening, he tells Audrey that his mother wants him home for a family dinner and that he’ll see her tomorrow. He shows up at the address Alex had listed for him, finds himself at a cute two-story house with a pretty garden in the front, fresh green grass, and Jack can’t fathom Alex living here. Can’t fathom that Alex has invited him to his _house_. This feels much too human for Alex’s style. He knocks on the door nonetheless, waits for a minute and rocks on his heels with his hands in his pockets. He briefly wonders if he’s gotten the wrong address when the door opens and there’s Alex, with messy wet hair and a plain navy t-shirt and grey sweatpants and those big brown eyes staring right at Jack.

“Hi,” Jack says, and Alex blinks.

“Why are you at my house?”

“It’s Saturday. _Samedi. 8 heure._ ”

“I meant next Saturday.”

Jack stares right back at him, gauges whether that’s a true statement or not, and he is _so_ not in the wrong for assuming Alex meant this Saturday. “Oh,” Jack says awkwardly, feels his cheeks flush. “You definitely didn’t write that on the note.”

“It’s cool,” Alex sighs, opens the door a little wider. “You can come in.”

“Are you sure? ‘Cause I can just go-,”

“Jack, come on.”

It’s a demand, not a plea, and Jack knows not to take it as such. He steps inside without another word, toes off his shoes at the door as Alex closes it. He looks so oddly normal in a t-shirt and sweatpants that Jack almost feels uncomfortable, like this isn’t really Alex. The other boy leads him upstairs, calls out, “I’m recording, don’t interrupt,” to someone unseen, and Jack briefly wonders what _recording_ means. 

Alex takes him to his room, closes the door behind them, and Jack’s not sure what he was expecting. Maybe some kind of new-age Bat Cave. But it’s average, with tan walls and a blue bedspread and a desk, some posters on the wall and boxes of cassettes and records and CDs on the floor. It’s mostly music, just _everywhere,_ a walkman and a record player and a CD player and headphones and even a guitar. Jack’s hardly surprised by it, but he is surprised by the small collection of candles that decorate the other boy’s windowsill. 

“Sorry to interrupt,” Jack says, and Alex shrugs as he takes a seat on the floor against the wall beside the window. He nods for Jack to sit down with him and he obliges, crosses his legs beneath him as Alex pulls over a milk crate full of records. “So did you-,”

“Do you ever shut up?”

“Ah — I guess not.”

“Okay. Shut up.”

“Got it.”

Alex flicks through records until he deems one worthy, and Jack catches sight of a thin sliver of skin at his hip as the boy leans over to set it on the player. It stirs something inside of him, just over that minuscule strip of bare skin, and he quickly looks away, isn’t quite ready to face that feeling yet. He doesn’t recognize the record that Alex has put on, but it’s more upbeat than the music he plays on Ground Control and it’s a little more in line with the mixtape he’d given Jack. The other boy reaches into his desk drawer then, leaning past Jack for access, and suddenly the scent of nutmeg and _earth_ surrounds him and he’s stunned, can’t believe he’s never noticed how nice Alex smells. Not that he’s ever thought about it before.

His hand emerges with a slender joint and a lighter. Jack’s starting to distrust what he’s said about not being an avid smoker. Alex seems to catch onto that as he settles back into his position against the wall, and he shoots him a coy smile as he lights up. “Not a regular,” he states, and Jack raises an eyebrow. In this light, he can see Alex’s pretty lips easier compared to their walk in the park, and he doesn’t want to admit that he’s captivated by them as the boy blows out the smoke smoothly. For some reason, Jack’s not expecting him to pass the joint to him, and he finds himself staring at it between Alex’s long fingers with a blank brain on what to do about it. 

He glances up at Alex, though, catches those dark eyes watching him, and he feels himself take the joint without the active decision to. He doesn’t really like smoking, never has, but something about this — being in Alex’s room under the moonlight with nothing more than the dim table lamp across the room and boxes of music around them with an obscure record in the background — makes him think that he’ll like it this time. So he takes a hit, inhales deeply and passes it back to Alex as he lets it out. It’s clean and woodsy and it’s halfway nice, better than the skunk-like smell that some weed has. It takes a few puffs before he feels it, but when he does, it’s smooth. It’s a much better high than he’s experienced before, a nice, comfortable daze with the music hitting in different layers, and Alex looks just as blissed out, eyes lightly closed and a soft smile tugging at the corners of his pink lips, his head resting back against the wall. Jack catches sight of the box of cassettes next to the other boy and he reaches out to pull it in front of him, the scraping of the plastic against each other prompting Alex to open his eyes. 

Jack cycles through a few of them — there’s got to be at least a hundred in this crate, and there’s another one on the other side of the room — and Alex leans forward, rests his elbow on the edge of the box and settles his chin in his hand, passes the joint. Jack takes a hit as he pulls out a cassette labeled _T.E.G._ in Alex’s handwriting and he frowns curiously, holds it up with a questioning look. Alex gives him a soft smile and shakes his head, glances at the joint and does a little nod to let Jack know he wants it back. He reaches for a new record at the same time, though, and Jack’s prepared to wait while he changes it out, but Alex looks at him again and flicks his eyes down to the joint again, an expectant look following, and Jack swallows thickly as he realizes what Alex is getting at here.

He changes positions, settles on his knees and leans across the crate of cassettes, gently places the joint between Alex’s lips. The other boy maintains eye contact as he inhales, slow and smooth, and Jack’s entranced in those brown eyes and those full lips. He’s able to really look at his irises this close, look at all the different shades of brown and the gold flecks that shine in the dim light and the long eyelashes that frame his upper lid, thinner and lighter on the bottom waterline. Jack takes the joint away, but he doesn’t move back, just lets his eyes drop to Alex’s lips to admire them too. They’re just as soft and rosy pink as he remembers them being at the park, and he finds himself leaning in to taste them when Alex blows the smoke out, sinful and gorgeous, and Jack’s snapped out of his haze. 

He sits back again, blinks a few times and swallows thickly, watches Alex with wide eyes as the other boy places a new record on. The dryness of his mouth is suddenly more apparent and he wishes they had some water so he could distract himself from it. Alex doesn’t even seem to notice that Jack almost kissed him, or that that moment was way too intimate and sensual to be friendly, but from what little Jack knows about him, Alex wouldn’t react the way the regular person would. Of course he wouldn’t trip over his uneasiness the way Jack is — he’d say something about how it was meant to happen in their timeline. 

When he gets home later, he calls Zack without a second thought. Coming down from his high, he runs over the events of the night again — Alex opening the door with that damp, messy hair in that shirt that clung to his chest and his shoulders so nicely, the other boy telling him to shut up, letting Jack search through all of his music, _sharing_ a joint, Jack holding it for him, and the biggest anxiety-inducing contender of all, the swell of desire to kiss him, to feel those full lips slotted between his, to get him gasping underneath him. Jack’s heart threatens to beat right out of his chest as the line rings and he prays to god that Zack’s still awake even though it’s after one now. Somehow he managed to sit in Alex’s silent company with nothing more than record after record and a joint for five hours. Sure, the joint was gone by nine, but the high lasted until midnight, and even then, they laid on Alex’s floor in the barely-there light of his lamp, letting the moon wash over them with the music until one. Jack couldn’t keep his eyes off of him.

“ _Hullo?_ ”

“Zack,” Jack breathes, so thankful he picked up. “Hi. It’s Jay.”

“ _Jack, it’s one in the morning, bro. After one. Why’re you calling me this late?_ ”

“I’m gay,” Jack blurts out, and then he frowns because that’s not right. “I-I mean, no, I’m — I don’t know, I don’t know what I am, I’m not _gay_ but there’s — there’s this _boy_ , Zee-,”

“ _Calm down,_ ” Zack says through a yawn, and Jack can hear him shuffling under his bed covers. “ _What are you on about? What happened to that girl you were seeing? Audrey? And what are you talking about, being gay? Have you always been gay?_ ”

“No, Zee, I don’t know. I’m still seeing Audrey, I guess, but I know it’s not going to go anywhere and she does too. It’s just — there’s this boy, okay, and he hasn’t left my head since the first day of school. Literally. I think about him _every_ day. All I want to do is hang out with him and be around him and listen to him talk and tonight we got high and I almost fucking _kissed_ him, Zee, and that’s not the first time, but he doesn’t have any interest in me and I’m so desperate for his attention, I can _feel_ it. And he knows it. I-I’ve never felt like this about anyone, okay, no girl, and I don’t know if I’m going crazy or if I’m gay or if he’s hypnotized me-,”

Zack laughs on his end. “ _I doubt he hypnotized you, Jack. I mean, you don’t have to be fully gay, y’know? You could be bi. I guess that’s a thing now. Liking both men and women. Who’s to say you can’t like a boy and still like girls? Why limit yourself if you think you like him?_ ”

“I don’t know how to tell,” Jack admits. “He’s so confusing, you have no idea. I go a mile and all he gives me is an inch. He’s the weirdest, coolest, most captivating person I’ve ever met in my whole life and I’m totally transfixed, can you tell? Do I sound like a crazy person?”

“ _Yes. Definitely. Just take it easy, Jay. Try to focus on how you feel when you’re with him. And don’t do anything if you think he wouldn’t like it. I dunno — people are more accepting of homosexuals now, but it’s still an issue for some people. So maybe get an idea of where he stands on it before you go trying anything._ ”

Jack sighs and runs his fingers through his hair. “I think I need to have sex.”

“ _Ask Audrey, dude, she’s already let you eat her out._ ”

“She made it _very_ clear that she didn’t want to have sex.”

“ _Maybe that’s changed!_ ”

“Zack, you’re fucking useless.”

“ _Okay. You know I love you, yeah? No matter who you like. I’m still your best friend and you’re still mine. I’m glad you trusted me with that._ ”

Jack didn’t even consider that Zack might be homophobic.

“Yeah,” he sighs. “Thanks for being cool. You’re not useless. And I love you too.”

~~~

He tries to be as normal as possible with Alex. Which isn’t hard, given that they barely interact and Alex didn’t even seem to notice that Jack almost kissed him, doesn’t seem to think that letting Jack hold the joint to his lips was intimate or sensual in any way, or maybe he was just too high to notice. Either way, Jack tries to embody that too, the complete oblivion to any kind of intense moment between them. He’s definitely not _trying_ to fall for a boy, and he’s fully under the assumption that Alex is straight, so he’s not going to confuse himself or Alex by _doing_ anything.

Instead, he talks to Audrey. Not about Alex, but he sits across from her on his bed on a December afternoon and looks at that beautifully structured face and her sweet full breasts and those soft lips, and all he can think to do is sigh and say, “I need to have sex.”

Because that’s really the conclusion he’s come to here. He’s too wound up and horny from months of _not quite_ getting laid and now he’s projecting on Alex. It makes sense — developing an intimate, mysterious relationship with a boy who keeps him guessing would obviously pique his interest sexually. It’s different than the steady make-out sessions and occasional sexual act that he gets with Audrey, and Jack’s always needed variety. So if he gets laid, properly laid for the first time, he’ll be satisfied enough for his mind to finally realize that he’s not gay and Alex is not what he’s looking for.

Audrey raises an eyebrow. “You _need_ to have sex?”

Jack flushes, backtracks. “I-I mean, I don’t _need_ to, but I… want to. And you said you didn’t want to have sex, so if that’s still the case, then we should break off whatever this is. ‘Cause it’d feel wrong to fuck around behind your back, even though we’re not, like… official. You know?”

Audrey smiles, small and mysterious as usual. “I’d like to have sex,” she comes back with, and Jack’s genuinely surprised. “But I’m still not interested in a relationship. So I need to make sure you’re not going to go around calling me a slut afterwards-,”

“Oh my god, I would never,” Jack interrupts quickly. “I wouldn’t tell anyone. No one needs to know my sex life or yours. And I don’t even think you’re a slut. I mean, if you’re a slut for doing this then so am I, right?”

She laughs, rolls her eyes fondly. “Not many guys would agree, Jack.”

“Okay, well — I won’t go around calling you a slut. Promise.”

“I also haven’t had sex in a long time. So you’ll have to take it easy on me.”

“Well, I’ve never had sex, so I expect the same from you.”

“You’ve never had sex? Really?”

Jack shakes his head with a shrug. “I’ve done everything we’ve done up until now, but I’ve never had sex. So if it sucks, that’s why. And _you_ can’t go around telling people I suck in bed.”

“Promise,” she assures with a grin, and then she’s settling in his lap and kissing him.

Jack’s seen a handful of girls naked before — including Audrey — but it’s different this time, knowing that he’s actually going to have sex. She feels nervous, a little trembly and short breathed, but he’s nervous too. He knows the basics of this, sure, and he knows how to make her come with his tongue, but he has no idea what to expect out of sex. Mostly he prays that he doesn’t come too soon and ruin the whole thing. So he tries to take it sort of slow to keep himself at bay, spends a good amount of time sucking gently on those perfect nipples, and she returns the favor with a tight handjob for a little pressure release. She’s wet when he goes down on her, practically glistening in the low light of the room, and he slips a finger inside as he circles her clit with his tongue, gets a soft moan from above him. One finger turns to two and she instructs him not to make her come like this, otherwise she’ll be too sensitive, so he pulls all the touch away and reaches for a condom. Sure, he’s never used them before, but he’s had them just in case. And this is the case. 

And then suddenly it’s real — he’s really going to have sex with this crazy beautiful, smart, funny, angelic girl and he doesn’t even like her romantically. It’s not anything like what he thought his first time was going to be like. He wanted to wait for someone who he trusted, someone who loved him, and he knows she doesn’t, but he doesn’t care now. Now, he needs to get a certain boy off of his mind, and losing his virginity to a stunning girl is the way to do it, he’s sure. So with that in mind — and he’ll refuse to acknowledge that he’s thinking about Alex while he’s in bed with her — he presses close against her, kisses her swiftly and mumbles, “You still want to?” and she smiles.

“Yeah, you?”

“Yeah,” he confirms, rubs the head of his cock against her. “You gotta tell me how to make it good for you.”

“Well, you should start with actually putting it in.”

He rolls his eyes with a smile, presses their lips together again as he eases the tip in, and _god_. It takes everything in him not to fuck in and chase down that warmth until he’s buried inside. She’s so wet that he slides in easily, accompanied by the lube that’s on the condom, and she sighs shakily against him as he bottoms out, her breasts trembling against his chest. He doesn’t move for a minute, just rests their foreheads together and tries to breathe evenly and not think _too_ much about the fact that he’s inside of a girl, finally. She’s tight and warm and wet and Jack can’t fucking believe how good this is. He’s afraid to look down and see her spread around him because he’s certain he’d come.

“You okay?” he asks breathlessly after a minute, and she hums. 

“Been a while, like I said. You’re bigger than my ex, too.”

“Are you okay?”

She laughs lightly. “I’m okay, Jack. It just takes a minute to adjust.”

She gives him the okay to move after another minute, and he can’t help but moan as he slides out and back in, can feel the way her body opens up to accommodate him. He takes it slow for the first few thrusts so he can get used to it and then he moves a little faster, sits up on his knees so he has a different angle. It’s a good decision, clearly, because she makes a pretty moaning noise as he rocks in and closes her eyes, and Jack has to swallow thickly and tense his muscles a little to avoid coming. But he stays in that position, wraps his hands around her sharp hips and fucks in faster, finds a steady rhythm like that, and he’s pretty sure she likes it because she moans and clutches the sheets with one hand, plays with her nipple with the other. 

“Y-You can-,” she starts, and Jack pauses, his heart pounding against his ribcage and his cock practically throbbing for release, and she laughs breathlessly and sighs. “You can use your thumb on my clit,” she tells him. “Super gently, side to side, and I’ll come like that.”

He nods quickly, places his hand between her hips and settles his thumb over her clit, starts rubbing in small, light circles and glances up for approval. She’s already got her eyes closed again, her lips parted as she breathes, but Jack can feel her tightening up around him so he’s guessing he’s got it right. He rocks in shallowly, can tell that he’s pressing into her g-spot, and he watches her tense up and cover her mouth with her hands as her thighs draw up against his waist, and she tightens and tightens around him until he’s begging himself not to come like this, and then she gasps and cries out as she comes. Jack’s not sure what he’s expecting, but it’s not the _hot-wet-tight_ throbbing that floods over his cock as she trembles through it, and all he can do is say, “Oh, _fuck_ ,” and press in deep and spill over into the condom as he collapses, moaning into her shoulder as he does. 

Definitely his best orgasm to date.

“That was good,” she tells him afterwards with a smile, pulling her shirt back on, and Jack gives her a hopeful look. “Really. It was good.”

“Seriously?”

She laughs. “Was it not good for you?”

“No, no, it was — I mean, it was _amazing_ , I just… I’m glad it was good for you too,” he manages to get out, because sure, he made her come, but he knows that doesn’t necessarily mean it’s _good_ sex. And he’s surprised that she’s saying so given that it was his first time. “I guess I wasn’t expecting a greatly positive review.”

“Jack, if you can make a girl come on your dick, it’s impressive. Especially for your first time. And my ex came the second he first put it in, so you held out pretty long considering. And I’d happily have sex with you again.”

He grins brightly, feels his chest practically glow under the compliment, and she laughs lightly and wiggles into her jeans, leans over and kisses him. “To recap,” she begins, “We’re still not in a relationship, I reserve the right to refuse sex at any time, and we don’t tell anyone about this. Correct?”

“Correct,” he agrees. “Signed and sealed.”

“Okay. You’re really sweet, Jack. You’re gonna make some girl really happy one day. I’m sorry it’s not me.”

He tilts his head curiously. “Why are you sorry? Neither of us want a relationship.”

“I know,” she sighs with a sad smile. “But I think that if we were in a different place in our lives, we’d probably be together. I guess it’s not meant to be if neither of us want that, though.”

“Yeah,” he says hollowly. “You’re probably right. You’re gonna make someone really happy one day too, y’know. Only a crazy person would turn you down.”

She laughs, brushes his hair from his forehead. “Guess you must be crazy, huh?”

“Out of my mind,” he whispers, and she kisses him again before she leaves.

He calls Zack later that night, stretches out on his bed and sets the body of the phone on his chest, holds the receiver to his ear and stares at the ceiling, aimlessly rubs the strip of skin above his pajama pants. Zack picks up almost immediately with his quiet voice on the other end of the line, and Jack smiles to himself just as he says hello.

“Hi,” he greets. “What’s up?”

“ _I was just playing video games,_ ” Zack sighs. “ _Boring night. It sucks to play without you. How’s it going? Have you done anything about your crush on that boy?_ ”

“Uh… I had sex?”

He hears Zack choke and cough on the other end of the line and Jack laughs, waits patiently for him to settle. “ _Holy shit,_ ” Zack gasps. “ _You had sex? With the boy? What’s that like?_ ”

“No, I had sex with Audrey,” Jack corrects with a laugh. “Chill, dude. No gay sex. It was crazy, Zee. She’s so beautiful; I wish I could show you what she looks like. _And_ I made her come.”

“ _Whoa. That’s fucking crazy. You made her come on the first go? It wasn’t, like, embarrassing or awkward or anything? You didn’t come way too soon and ruin it? That’s always what I’m worried about._ ”

“I thought I would,” he admits. “It took some effort. She told me how to make her come, though. I mean, I’ve made her come before, many times, but I had no idea it’d feel like how it did. I mean, she went easy on me and didn’t try to make me last too long, so I was probably only inside of her for ten minutes, but that’s, like, ten minutes longer than I expected to last.”

Zack laughs and Jack can picture his smile, those sweet green eyes crinkled at the corners. “ _Jeez. That’s awesome, Jay. Are you gonna have sex with her again? And what about your crush on that guy?_ ”

“I’m totally going to have sex with her again, are you kidding? No way am I going to sleep with her just once. As for… well. I don’t even know if I can call it a crush, honestly. I don’t know. I think I just freaked out, Zee. I haven’t been high in a long time so I probably just got caught up in the moment. Or maybe the moment wasn’t even there and I totally imagined it. Either way, I’m not interested in him.”

“ _Yeah, makes sense. Weed can do that, I think. I’m glad you’re getting it together, Jay. You sound a lot happier._ ”

“Thanks, Zee.”

~~~

He’s happier for all of a week before he reverts.

Having sex with Audrey did help his infatuation with Alex — sure, his voice is still the most soothing and luscious thing he’s ever heard, and sure, Jack could still stare at him all day if he wanted to, and sure, every word that Alex speaks on his radio show has his head spinning, but he’s not so desperate for his attention. But now, instead of sitting around in his room trying to decipher every word Alex has ever spoken to him, he has sex with Audrey. It’s better sex now; he lasts longer and they try some new positions and some different paces and Jack fucking loves it, can’t get enough of her. Regardless, something in the back of his brain tells him that if it came down to it, he’d still choose Alex’s soft midnight voice over Audrey’s pretty moans as she comes. His conscious brain won’t admit to that, though.

**Sunshine Boy**

_Hello, listeners. Welcome to Ground Control. For our new listeners, I’m your host, Sunshine Boy, and for our frequent attendees, welcome back. I hope we’re all doing well tonight on this cold December evening. Before we take any callers, let’s lower our blood pressure a little with Mykonos by Fleet Foxes. Remember, our number is (410) 555-FINE._

_Who’s on the line tonight?_

**Husky-Voiced Woman**

_Hi, Sunshine. I haven’t been on in a while, but it’s Ash here._

**Sunshine Boy**

_Ash, where have you been?! We’ve missed hearing that homey voice._

**Ash**

_Well, Sunshine, I’m only here briefly. I’ve been traveling quite a bit for the past few months working on some photography with a band on tour. However, I did happen to recall that one certain late-night host has a December birthday, and if I’m not mistaken, it’s today._

**Sunshine Boy**

_Ah… Ash, your memory serves you well. Your very own graveyard shift Sagittarius has a birthday today. I’m surprised you remembered, amongst the craziness of traveling. How’s that going?_

**Ash**

_Ah ah ah, nice try, boy. We’re not talking about me. It’s your day. What’d you do to celebrate, huh Sunshine? Hang out with your friends or have a nice dinner or go out for drinks?_

**Sunshine Boy**

_I actually didn’t do much this year. Hung out with my family a little and had a nice dinner, sure. This year is starting out slow and cold for me, and I’m finding some comfort in that. My other years haven’t started out so smoothly._

**Ash**

_I hope your year goes wonderfully, Sunshine. Happy birthday._

**Sunshine Boy**

_Thank you, Ash. You’re the sweetest. Next caller, who’s on the line?_

**Boy Exotic**

_Sunshine Boy, why didn’t you let anyone know it was your birthday today? Happy birthday._

**Sunshine Boy**

_Is this Boy Exotic? It sure sounds like Boy Exotic._

**Boy Exotic**

_I’m romanced by the fact you know my voice._

**Sunshine Boy**

_[laughter] Well, Boy Exotic, I never really thought about sharing my birthday on the show. I started Ground Control to focus on other people and share some of my thoughts, so it feels a bit selfish to turn the show into a celebration of a silly birthday._

**Boy Exotic**

_You’re allowed to be selfish on your birthday._

**Sunshine Boy**

_Maybe one year, but not this one. Besides, I’m more than happy to just engage with our callers on the show as usual. I’ve been looking forward to it all day._

**Boy Exotic**

_Well, then, happy birthday, Sunshine._

_~~~_

Winter break comes around a week later and Jack couldn’t be less excited. It’s cold and rainy, with snow sure to come in the next few months, and he doesn’t have anything to do in his free time. He’ll see Audrey, probably, and maybe John if he gets lucky, or maybe someone will have a party that he’ll be able to sneak in on. His previous winter breaks have been infinitely more fun, from hanging out with Zack for hours on end to going on various wintertime dates with pretty girls to getting drunk at Erin’s annual Christmas party. He doesn’t have that this year, though. Not to say getting laid isn’t a great way to pass time, but he misses his friends. 

The one redeeming factor is that his siblings are coming home for a few days. Christmas falls on a Friday, which means his siblings will stay until Sunday and Jack can _finally_ get some sense of real familiarity in this town. He misses them more than he thought he would, given that they’d already moved out before the rest of the family moved to Towson, but something about being in a different state makes their absence more noticeable.

So that’s how his break goes. He plays video games alone, listens to Alex’s show, sleeps with Audrey a few times, still works on _eroding_ in the ways he can. He plays Alex’s mixtape on repeat as he runs, and whenever he puts effort into the process, he feels the same desperation for Alex’s attention creep back around. Maybe one day that’ll fall by the wayside, maybe when he gets real friends or a real girlfriend who can keep his attention, but for now, Alex is still the most intriguing person he’s met here. And he knows that it’s fucking pathetic to still be so caught up in him after five months of being here and limited interaction. He finds himself aching for those brief moments of eye contact they exchange in school, though.

He goes Christmas shopping for his siblings a few days before Christmas. He adamantly refuses his family’s company, mostly because he’s already sick of hanging out with them so much after a week of break has gone by. Besides, he misses having somewhere to _go_ , misses driving with a purpose instead of getting lost on the streets he doesn’t know yet on an aimless drive. He doesn’t even know what he’s searching for at the mall, hasn’t put in a shred of thought as to what his siblings might like as a gift now that they’re adults with real lives. He clearly had the same idea as everyone else in town, because it takes him a solid fifteen minutes to find a parking space and by the time he even gets inside the mall, he’s just fucking angry. 

The mall has never agreed with him. The abrasive lights, the Christmas music with a different song in every store, or sometimes a different song in every _department_ of a store, the samples being shoved at him at every corner that he turns, and the _crowds_ — the crowds are the worst of it all, especially at the holidays. People are pushy and rude and apathetic, and Jack has never been comfortable being one of those people despite what he might have needed, so he frequently lets himself get walked over and shoved around by impatient guests. Maybe he should have brought a family member so he didn’t have to fume by himself.

He spends an hour drifting from store to store. Nothing jumps at him for either of his siblings and a headache throbs in his temples after the first few stores are failures. Shopping blindly is surely part of the problem, and he hasn’t even _spoken_ to his siblings in forever, so the halfway-fancy jewelry that most men buy women is starting to call to him for his sister and the luxurious shaving kits look more appealing for his brother. At least Joe would use a shaving kit, but May would never wear mid-range jewelry. Jack knows her too well; she either wears expensive brands or nothing at all. A nice perfume might be more up her alley, if he knew anything about what scents she likes. Suddenly he’s wishing he’d interacted with them more before they moved out, but the large age difference always made it hard. 

He finds himself in the men’s section of AllSaints, aimlessly flicking through shirts on the sale rack under the idea that maybe he should get something nice to wear on Christmas day. He doesn’t really have anything nice, all his previously nice clothes either too small or too old to be appropriate, so he snatches a few dark button down shirts as he sips at the iced coffee he’d gotten and hopes that he doesn’t get kicked out for having a drink inside the store. He’s grateful for the lights in the dressing rooms, low-lit and warm colored bulbs that are surely for the sake of the store’s aesthetic, but Jack appreciates them over the typical fluorescent lights that dressing rooms have. The shirts aren’t anything special, not that he’s looking for special, but the fabric is soft and smooth as usual and he wishes he liked the fit better. The one he does like is way out of his price range, so he leaves them all on the rack in the room for a store attendant to pick up at the end of the day and pulls open the door to find himself face to face with Alex.

They both stop in their tracks, eyes locked under the complete discomfort of the scene, and Jack starts to say something when a woman from outside the dressing room hall calls Alex’s name. The other boy’s eyes goes wide and suddenly his hand is clamped over Jack’s mouth, shoving him back into the taller boy’s dressing room so hard that Jack’s first response is to grab Alex’s hip with the hand that doesn’t have his coffee so he doesn’t totally fall over, and Alex locks the door behind them and looks him right in the eye. The room is small, barely big enough to fit Jack himself, but with the two of them, Jack is pressed up against the mirror and the look in Alex’s midnight eyes is a very obvious sign of _do not make a sound._ The woman calls Alex’s name again and Jack’s sure that the sound of his heart pounding in his chest is going to give them away. That smell of nutmeg and earth is all around him, seeping into every crevice of his body and the fabric of his clothes, and those black coffee eyes are stuck on his, so deep and decadent that Jack’s worried he’ll get lost, and those plump sainfoin lips are so close to his own that he’s suddenly grateful for the hand that’s covering his mouth because otherwise he might kiss him. 

Alex must decide that the woman has left because he suddenly takes the iced coffee from Jack’s hand and takes a sip before he hands it back, murmurs, “I guess I’ll see you in another day’s lifetime,” and then he’s gone, leaving Jack alone with that smell and that lingering voice and a half-hard cock for reasons he’d rather not think about.

~~~

“Mom told me you have a girlfriend,” Joe states with a sip of wine, and Jack rolls his eyes.

“She’s not my girlfriend.”

“So what is she, a booty-call? I feel like you’re little young to be partaking in _that_.”

Jack gives him a tired look, but he’s glad May and his parents are still downstairs preparing dinner. “She’s not a booty-call, either,” he corrects. “I don’t know, we’re just… we communicated, okay? There’s no misunderstanding of what the situation is. We’re not dating, though. So she’s not my girlfriend. And we’re both very cool with that.”

“Why aren’t you dating? Didn’t you start hanging out because of mutual interest in each other? Isn’t that how dating works at your age? That’s how I remember it.”

“No, we were assigned to work on a project together. And it was made clear from the beginning that it wasn’t going to be anything. I don’t even like her like that, y’know? She’s just… pretty. And nice. And so smart.”

Joe raises an eyebrow in his direction as he flips through Jack’s CD collection. “Sure sounds like you like her.”

“I don’t, Joe. I’m actually sort of considering ending things.”

He hasn’t admitted that to anyone yet. Not even himself, until now. Something deep in his gut is telling him that she’s just an escape, that he’s using her body to briefly get out of his own, and ever since they’ve started having sex, he’s felt distantly nauseous in the moments before and after. So maybe his body is trying to tell him that this wasn’t the right move to erode — but that hasn’t come into the light until now.

The younger boy gives an unimpressed hum that lets Jack know that he’s not convinced, nor is he going to entertain that statement, and Jack’s so grateful. “Okay. Whatever. I’ll let Mom keep saying she’s your girlfriend because that seems easier. Has Mom even met her? Or does she just think you’ve totally made this girl up?”

“They’ve met, technically. Not anything formal.”

“Dude, if you’re gonna have a friend-with-benefits, you gotta keep her from meeting Mom. Otherwise she’s gonna be a _girlfriend_ in Mom’s mind forever.”

“Well, that’s sorta hard to prevent when I still live at home.”

“What about friends? Mom said you didn’t go out much.”

Jack shrugs, toys with a thread on the corner of his duvet cover as Joe grabs the box of cassettes from the floor to rifle through those as well. “I’m sort of friends with some of the baseball team,” he says, tried to force some enthusiasm into his voice. “They’re closer with each other, though, so it’s hard to really connect with them when I’m the outsider. And I go to parties sometimes; Audrey’s friends usually invite everyone they can think of, which includes me. And I still call Zack pretty often, so it’s not like I’m suddenly a hermit. I just don’t have people the way I did back in Providence.”

“Are you happy here?”

He hesitates to answer that — mostly because he’s still unsure, but he knows his mom is trying so hard to give him reasons to enjoy Towson. He doesn’t know how to tell her that she’s wasting her time and effort, and that if he was going to like it here, he would already. “I don’t know,” he admits. “I don’t really think this area is for me. I feel lost all the time.”

“Are you sad here, though?”

“… I miss my friends,” he deflects. “And my routine back home. I don’t have that here. It’s really hard to make new friends in the last year of high school in a town where everyone’s known each other since kindergarten.”

“You’re avoiding my question,” Joe sighs, gives him a look that tells him to knock it off. “I can detect your bullshit from a mile away, Jay, I grew up with you. What’s keeping you from being happy here? Mom’s worried about you.”

Suddenly there _is_ sadness that swells up in him and tingles in his jawline — he hasn’t actually given himself the time to feel sad since they moved. Ignoring it has been the better option, shoving it into the corner of his gut with his liver and wishing the alcohol would disintegrate it as well. He’ll allow himself loneliness every so often, frequently soothed with Audrey or a phone call with Zack, but sadness has been disregarded for the most part, and the flood of five months worth of it now catches him off guard.

“I guess I just didn’t want to move,” he finally says, swallowing thickly around the lump in his throat. “I didn’t want to leave my friends and have to start over. And now I’m here and no one around me seems to understand it, y’know? I mean, Audrey sort of understands the concept of moving, but she moved here when she was younger so she had more time. And she makes friends so easily. But no one really has the patience to get to know the new kid when it’s the last year of high school. Besides, no one’s interesting here. I don’t even _want_ to make friends. And I think that’s what’s making me sad, y’know — I want to want that. I wish I wanted to make friends here. But I just… don’t. I’m tired. I don’t have the energy. I don’t feel like myself here.”

“Maybe you should go to therapy,” Joe suggests lightly, and Jack sighs and rolls his eyes. “Seriously, kid. You don’t sound like yourself either. You sound all hollow and empty. It’s Christmas — lighten up.”

Jack doesn’t answer that. He doesn’t even get a chance to before Joe’s holding up the mixtape Alex made for him and Jack’s heart lurches into his ribcage — he thought that was still in his car. “What’s this?” Joe asks, and Jack doesn’t even know how to begin to explain this.

“Uh… ’s just a mixtape someone made me.”

“Jesus, Jack, how many girls do you have pining for you?”

“I-It wasn’t a girl, it was just… a friend.”

“Which friend? One of the baseball guys?”

“Uh. No. Someone else. We’re not close.”

Except that they are, in a sense. In the sense that they can walk around in the middle of the night under the influence and talk about anything, that they can share a joint and sit in nothing but the vibrations of music for five hours, that they can share cassettes with each other, that Alex lets Jack in on the most personal piece of his life. The sense of connection is unlike anything Jack’s ever felt — he has no idea how to describe to Joe that he knows virtually nothing about this boy but that he’s never felt more cosmically connected with anyone else. 

“But he gives you mixtapes.”

“Just the one.”

The older boy has more questions, Jack can tell. He’s only saved by his mother calling them down for dinner.

~~~

**Sunshine Boy**

_Welcome to Ground Control, listeners. I’m your host, Sunshine Boy. I hope you all had a wonderful Christmas with your loved ones, and I hope this Maryland weather isn’t doing you too dirty. Now, I mentioned this last week but I feel it’s worth mentioning again for listeners who didn’t tune in previously — I won’t be playing any Christmas music, especially now that the day has passed. Sorry for those who are disappointed. Let’s start out with a caller this week, hm? Caller one, you’re on._

**Talky**

_Hi Sunshine, Talky here._

**Sunshine Boy**

_Sweettalker, how have you been? How were your holidays?_

**Talky**

_I’ve been pretty well. My holidays were nice; I spent some time with family I haven’t seen in quite a while. How was your Christmas?_

**Sunshine Boy**

_It was lovely, thank you for asking. One of the nicer Christmases I’ve had in the past few years. Talky, what’s got you calling in tonight?_

**Talky**

_Well, I had some exciting news that I wanted to share, as well as letting everyone know that I probably won’t be listening or calling in for quite some time — I’ve been signed to a record label._

**Sunshine Boy**

_Jesus Christ, sweettalker, that’s incredible. Your music has always been part of my daily soundtrack. As much as we’ll miss you here, I hope it all goes well and we’ll all be wishing you the best. You know we’ll always welcome you back as a caller if you’re ever in town._

**Talky**

_Thanks, Sunshine. I just wanted to thank you for holding this show every week, without fail. I thought for sure my insomnia was going to ruin all my career dreams, but it really helped to build a little community through this. I never thought a little radio show would give me the encouragement to actually go after this._

**Sunshine Boy**

_Talky… you have no idea how much that means. You’re welcome, and thank you for saying that. That’s everything I ever wanted this show to be. Before I get too caught up in my own sentiment, let’s take a little break and listen to Better Off by Ariana Grande._

_Caller two, you’re live. Who do we have tonight?_

**Starlit**

_Hello, Sunshine._

**Sunshine Boy**

_Starlit, baby, that voice. You know what it does to me. What brings you here?_

**Starlit**

_Well, I wasn’t intending to call tonight, but listening to that song made me worry about you — is everything okay in your little love life? It’s a more of bit a somber song for your usual taste, and Venus is in retrograde, so love lives can be a little messy right now._

**Sunshine Boy**

_[laughter] I actually haven’t had any changes in my romantic endeavors. The wells are as dry as ever. But you’re right, the song is a little more somber than my usuals, though it wasn’t intended to represent any particular period in my life right now. Interesting about Venus — for any of our listeners struggling with your love life, that may be why._

**Starlit**

_Sunshine, one day someone’s gonna love you just right, and it’s gonna be everything you need. You practice manifesting that, okay? Otherwise I’ll track you down and love you myself._

**Sunshine Boy**

_Starlit, don’t give me reasons to avoid manifestation. Your presence and your love would be a gift to me. I appreciate your concern, though, and thank you for calling in to check. Who’s our next caller?_

**Old Man**

_Hi, Sunshine Boy. It’s been a long time since I’ve been around — it’s Falcon._

**Sunshine Boy**

_Falcon, wow! Been quite a while. What brings you back to the show?_

**Falcon**

_You’ve mentioned on previous shows that you don’t have too many friends in your physical world because people don’t give your personality a chance. Hypothetically, if you were to meet one of your callers in person, do you think you’d be more willing to entertain a relationship with them?_

**Sunshine Boy**

_You know, I’ve never considered that. That’s a good question. I think the in-person connection would have to feel right, but hypothetically, I would be more willing, yes. The callers and listeners of the show know me better than anyone else in my life, discounting a member of my family, and I don’t take that lightly, so I think it’d certainly be easier for me to progress into a functional relationship with someone I’ve shared the show with._

The logical part of Jack tells him not to take that as a statement for him, but it doesn’t stop his heart from leaping.

~~~

There’s a New Year’s Even party held by one of John’s baseball friends that he’s invited to. The thought of getting drunk and dancing to shitty pop music and letting go of some of the stress in his mind for a while is what inspires him to say yes, and he hopes Audrey isn’t going because he doesn’t want to kiss her at midnight. He doesn’t want to kiss any of the girls at midnight. He’s already planning on _accidentally_ missing it. Also, it’s New Year’s Eve. He has to get drunk — at least he’ll be able to maintain that tradition from Providence.

It’s a fairly large party, not loud enough for the cops to be called, but Jack’s grateful that whoever’s hosting has the house to themselves for a few days. He’s more than in the mood to swing back a few shots and lay out on the grass in the back with a joint. Maybe there’ll be sparklers or something that he can wave around in the street and admire the way the color slows down in his drunken haze. They’re technically not allowed, but Jack’s fairly certain that the neighbors won’t rat them out for a few handheld sparklers as long as they don’t light anything aflame. With a group of drunk, stoned teenagers, that might be a lot to ask, but he’ll stay optimistic in his own ability.

He finds himself on the deck in the backyard around eleven, his vision more than a little off-kilter and a permanent smile on his lips. Originally he’d been accompanied by John and a few of the other baseball team members, but they’ve disappeared now, leaving him alone with his feet hanging off the edge of the desk and his fingers numb from the condensation of the malt bottle and the chilled December breeze. The sky is clear for the first time in days, leaving him with a view of whatever stars shine through the town light pollution and the light of the full moon.

Suddenly there’s another body next to him, and he glances over to see Alex adjusting to get comfortable, leaning back on his palms. “Whoa,” is the first thing Jack manages to get out in his drunken state. “Are you a werewolf?”

Alex gives him a curious look and looks down at himself. “Well, I know I didn’t try too hard to impress tonight, but do I really look that bad?”

Jack laughs, gestures up at the moon with his bottle. “’S a full moon again,” he states. “Last time we met at a party, it was _almost_ a full moon. Werewolves come out during full moons, right? That’s the only time I ever see you.”

“So let’s review the assumptions you’ve made about what I am,” Alex prompts, a soft smile teasing at the corners of his lips. “Ah… a psychic, a hypnotist, a mind-reader, and now a werewolf. Do you have any evidence to back those up?”

Jack gives him a loopy grin. “Full moon, Alexander.”

Alex laughs lightly and shakes his head, but he doesn’t argue with it. With the alcohol prominent in his bloodstream, Jack lets himself stare at the younger boy, that dark messy hair and the defined muscle of his bicep from how he’s leaning on it and the fitted fabric of his long-sleeved shirt. “Are you drunk?” Jack hears himself ask, and Alex glances at him.

“You sure are.”

“Totally. New Year’s. You gotta be drunk.”

“I had a drink. Not really my thing.”

“Tonight? What’d you have?”

“No clue,” Alex admits with a soft smile. “Whatever was put in my hand when I came in the door. It wasn’t very good, but I’ve never been into alcohol.”

“More into weed,” Jack recalls. “But allegedly not an avid smoker.”

“You’ve seen me smoke, what, twice in six months?”

“Five,” Jack corrects, as if that makes a difference, and Alex just rolls his eyes with that smile and looks out at the backyard. “Y’know, for someone who judges the party lifestyle and all the people who engage in it, I’ve seen you at too many parties.”

“I never said that,” Alex argues, and Jack snickers and pulls a mocking tone.

“Oh, sure, Mr. _I Thought You Were Different but Instead You’re Hanging Out with Baseball Guys and Dating a Pretty Girl so Clearly You Don’t Understand._ ”

Alex laughs, that pretty, real laugh that he rarely shows, the dimples prominent on his cheeks as he grins at Jack with bright eyes, a teasing halo around him. Jack grins right back — this is the longest he’s gotten Alex to engage in a little lighthearted joking with him. And the first time he’s gotten the other boy to really grin for him. 

“Let’s go for a walk,” Alex says, and Jack raises an eyebrow.

“It’s not even midnight; we’re at a party!"

“The cops are gonna get called. Do you really wanna be involved in that?”

“I — okay, get yourself another drink, then. Or take a shot with me. Oh, shit — dude, take a shot with me. That’d be fun.”

Before Alex can respond, Jack’s downing the last of his malt and staggering to his feet, tugging Alex up with him by his arm and ignoring the noise of disapproval from the smaller boy. Nonetheless, Alex follows him to the kitchen where the alcohol is, and Jack finds the tequila and a lime and salt. “Have you done this?”

“No, but I guess this is how tonight is going.”

“Timelines, or whatever.”

Alex looks at him, amusement lighting up those brown eyes. “Wrong theory, Boy Exotic.”

“Shut it, Sunshine.”

He shows Alex how to do it — _lick the web between thumb and forefinger, dust it with salt, have a lime nearby, then you gotta go fast, it’s salt, tequila, lime. Ready? —_ and they clink before they go at it. Jack hasn’t done a tequila shot in a long time, but he’s expecting Alex to be the one who struggles. Instead it’s him; he coughs afterwards and can feel the disgusted face he’s making, but Alex just wrinkles his nose a little and swallows thickly and says, “That’s not fun,” and Jack laughs.

“That’s what makes it fun.”

“Walk?”

“Walk.”

They slip out the backyard, each with a water bottle, and Alex sets the direction. Jack can tell that it’s cold out but he doesn’t feel it through the alcohol haze, and suddenly he realizes that Alex is probably going to feel that tequila shot way more than he will because he doesn’t have an alcohol tolerance. And he’s so looking forward to seeing this philosophic, mysterious boy tipsy off some tequila.

“So do you have this effect on everyone?” he asks, gesturing wildly at nothing with his hand, and Alex looks up at him, furrows a curious brow in question. “Like, all I want to do is hang out with you. I think about you all the time. Everything you say is so, like, magically charged, you know? Do you have some timbre of your voice that hypnotizes people or something like that guy in the X Files? Cause I _never_ think about people. Like, Zack, I guess, but he doesn’t count. Do other people think about you all the time?”

“You talk a lot,” is Alex’s response, and Jack shrugs and takes a swig of water. “So you’re combining theories here — one, that I’m a hypnotist and that’s why you’re thinking about me all the time, and two, that I’m a mind-reader and can tell if other people are doing the same. For the sake of your own simplicity, I’d suggest you stick to one.”

“For the sake of my sanity, I suggest you answer the question.”

“I wouldn’t know,” Alex tells him with a shrug. “You know I don’t have friends here. Even if people did think about me all the time, they wouldn’t tell me. But I’m gonna go under the assumption of no.”

“So why do _I_ think about you all the time?”

“Well, I don’t even know what you’re thinking about, so I’m not sure I can answer that.”

“You always have the answers.”

“You want me to say some shit about timelines?”

“… Maybe, yeah, if the shoe fits.”

Alex sighs, eyes scanning over the tree lines where they meet the night sky. “You’ve heard of the multi-verse theory,” he says, and Jack shakes his head. “You haven’t? God, okay, no wonder you’re confused, Jack. Think about the prefix. When we reference our world, our location in space and that beyond us, we call it a universe, right? _Uni_ , as in _one_. With the multiverse theory — _multi_ , as in _multiple_ — it’s a concept of multiple universes, with the word universe being used colloquially. Understand?”

“No.”

“Okay. Well, just imagine a bunch of universes, okay? And all those universes are comprised of everything we know. Space, time, matter, energy, physics, etcetera. Now, within this concept of the multiverse, there’s parallel universes, because with the same particles being mismatched in all these different fabrics of universes, infinitely, it’s bound to repeat at some point, which means some of the particles of one universe would inevitably be an identical replica of some of the particles in another universe. This is where timelines come in — the you and me in this other universe, identical at a particle level, might be living completely different lives than the ones we’re living here. And there could be hundreds of universes that you and I exist in together, but _this_ universe is the one where we’re here together on New Year’s Eve, taking a walk after doing shots together. Does that make sense?”

“Yes and no.”

“There’s no better way to explain it. That, of course, is the well over-simplified version of everything and I can’t even begin to explain all the variables that go into it and what science does and doesn’t support this.”

“Whoa, hold up,” Jack interrupts. “This is, like, science? I thought it was philosophy!”

“It’s both. But it’s not just some out-there theory with no evidence, you know? There’s a lot of science to back up both sides of the argument.”

“So why do I think about you all the time?”

“Well, this is just a theory,” Alex disclaims. “But if we’re going under the assumption of the multiverse, the particles that make up you and the particles that make up me were intended to collide in this universe. Which means everything that builds us — again, the time, space, energy, etcetera — is meant to interact somehow. This is, like, destiny, fate, scripted lifetimes kind of shit now. Maybe for you, the pathways of your neurons were intended to build a pattern around me. Maybe that’s why you’ve felt so weird since moving here, you know, all those neurons surrounding _Alex_ were laying dormant and now suddenly they’re activated.”

“I thought the brain was malleable,” Jack states. “Like, we have to build the pathways ourselves ’n shit. I didn’t think it was built for us and determined at birth.”

“You’ve reached another variable in the fabric of the multiverse,” Alex says with that coy smile, and Jack catches a little hint of pride in his tone. “We can’t know for sure that our neuronal pathways aren’t predetermined. We can watch how they develop, what influences them, but if everything is scripted for us already, then it would have happened regardless. If all of life is scripted by the pattern of the particles in our universe, our lifetimes, then every single tiny choice you make, any move, every scrap of time is already set to occur, and there’s no way out of it. And that’s where we get into destiny and fate — maybe you and I were destined to meet. And those neurons in your brain that keep firing over the concept of me were determined for you by this greater force that you’ll never be able to reckon with.”

The stars wink down at them as the boy talks, that smooth voice filling in the empty space in the air and melting together with the soft moonlight and the breeze, and with those flourishing hands and that tongue curling sweetly around his words, Jack’s mesmerized. 

“Or maybe you just have a crush.”

Jack laughs. “Now _that’s_ more tangible.”

Alex laughs as well, melodic and even and lovely, and Jack thinks he’s probably a little drunk if he’s loose enough to actually explain his thought process and laugh at Jack’s jokes. Jack’s definitely drunk, feeling easily amused and a little unsteady and definitely physical — he’s always been a touchy drunk. He likes leaning on people, kissing, hugging, all of it, but he’s not quite drunk enough to venture that far with Alex. They’re quiet for a while as they walk, silently sipping their waters and appreciating the quiet of the town despite the parties that were surely occurring behind closed doors. Jack’s never had such an easygoing New Year’s, but he finds himself not minding that he’s in Alex’s company instead of getting plastered at someone’s house. Alex has a lot to say — more than he thought. And every word has him aching for more.

They’re walking past a cemetery when Jack grins with the spark of an idea, grabbing Alex’s shoulder and turning him to face him. “Let’s walk in the cemetery,” he pitches, and Alex narrows his eyes.

“No.”

“Why?! Don’t tell me, in all of your psychic, hypnotic, mind-reader, werewolf, philosopher, scientist glory, that you’re afraid of _cemeteries._ ”

“I’m not afraid,” Alex corrects, and he looks a little more somber now. “I just… haven’t made my peace with that yet. It’s the one thing I haven’t wrapped my brain around.”

“What, death?”

“Loss.”

Jack frowns. The shiftiness of the other boy’s eyes, the flat facial features, those pink lips set in a straight line — _he shouldn’t be thinking about Alex’s lips_ — it all speaks to discomfort and sobriety, and Jack feels like he’s missing something here. “What about loss?” he asks curiously, and he starts walking again, past the cemetery’s entrance. Alex follows him, catches up within a second and falls into pace with him again.

“I just haven’t found a way to make my peace with it, you know? Everything else, sure, destinies and timelines and lifetimes and reasons, it’s all settled for me. But loss…” He drifts off, stares off into the distance of the cemetery for a moment before he sighs heavily. “I just don’t understand the purpose it serves in life.”

“What, and you understand the purpose everything else serves?”

“Well, yeah, for the most part. I can just pin it down to the multiverse theory and predetermined life scripts and everything teaches a valuable lesson. But loss… I mean, think about losing someone _really_ close to you. Your best friend, maybe. Something abrupt and unexpected. What’s that supposed to teach you? Pain? Misery? How to move on from someone you shouldn’t have had to move on from? I just — I don’t get it. I don’t see how it’s relevant or necessary to the human experience, which is confusing enough already.”

“Who did you lose?”

Alex whips his head to look at him as he stops in his tracks, those brown eyes suddenly big and curious with a layer of incredulity. Jack stares right back at him but he doesn’t take it back — there’s no way Alex would have analyzed and mulled over and developed frustration with loss unless he’d experienced it. The younger boy is clearly trying to analyze the situation, too, probably wracking his brain for reasons to trust Jack or trying to decide if he should bolt, but finally he clears his throat uncomfortably and says, “My brother,” and Jack’s heart sinks as the boy starts walking again.

“Alex, I’m sorry.”

Alex gives him the fakest smile he’s offered yet with an apathetic shrug, says coldly, “Doesn’t matter now, right?”

“How long ago?”

“Ah… about two years now. A little over. I was fourteen.”

“Wow. Recently.”

“People don’t really qualify two years as recent.”

“Loss follows a different timeline,” Jack says, and Alex gives him a curious look. “Well, who’s to say time can’t move differently in all these universes you talk about? Maybe there are multiple measures of time within our one timeline here on earth — chronological time, loss recovery time… I don’t know what else. But it makes sense, right? I mean, something that happened yesterday might feel more distant than losing your brother two years ago because they fall in different measures of time.”

Alex stops walking.

Jack turns to face him again, gets caught up in those pretty brown eyes that stare at him in the darkness and those high cheekbones and that little nose and he wonders if kissing him could be played off as a drunken mistake. “What?”

Alex tilts his head as he narrows his eyes, like he’s searching for something as he tracks Jack’s features, and then he shakes his head and glances at his watch. “We missed midnight.”

“Shit, really?”

“By a lot. It’s almost one.”

“There goes my plan to kiss you as the ball drops.”

Alex’s eyes go wide with a taken aback expression and Jack laughs, rolls his eyes. “I’m teasing,” he reminds him, and Alex seems to relax a bit. “Are you homophobic?”

“What? I — N-No, I just… ah. No. I’m not homophobic. But you have a girlfriend, dude, why are you joking around about kissing someone else? A boy, for that matter?”

They start walking again as Jack insists, “She’s not my girlfriend; how many times do I have to say it?”

“Well, you’re sleeping together, so-,”

“How did you know that?” Jack asks incredulously, and Alex holds up his hand defensively at the sharp tone.

“Jesus, you’ve been with her for, like, three months. I assumed you were sleeping together by now.”

Jack sighs and runs a hand over his face. “Sorry,” he mumbles. “We just… agreed we wouldn’t tell anyone that we were having sex instead of just… y’know. Fooling around. I wanted to make sure it hadn’t gotten out somehow.”

“I just assumed,” Alex repeats slowly. “Besides, she’s had a boyfriend before, so I figured it didn’t take too long to get to home base since she’s been there before, y’know? No disrespect to her. I didn’t mean to start anything.”

“It’s cool. But just because we’re sleeping together doesn’t mean we’re dating, you know? Friends with benefits is a better term.”

“Really? Just friends with benefits? I thought it was a little more serious than _that_. I mean, she’s beautiful and crazy smart and super nice, so… seems like any guy’s type, right?”

“You’re right,” Jack agrees with a soft smile. “But we’re not it for each other. We’ve talked about it. I mean, she’s drop-dead gorgeous and she’ll get into any school she applies to and she is really, really sweet, but it just doesn’t connect between us. In another timeline, we’re together, but it’s not this one.”

Alex smiles distantly. “Now you’re getting it.”

Jack ignores the sense of pride he feels knowing that he’s suddenly on Alex’s level of intellect.

~~~

Jack’s friendship with John has always been distant. They don’t really hang out one on one, but Jack is sometimes invited to hang out with John and his baseball friends if they’re doing something fun for a group, and he still sits with them at lunch and can converse a little easier and they certainly tolerate him. He’s not close with them by any means, but they all knows the basics of each other and they can get along well enough to hang out.

“Where’d you go at the New Year’s party, dude? Did you get lucky?” 

Jack hesitates to answer that, mostly because Alex is standing at his locker as John’s interrogating him and Jack has a feeling the other boy isn’t interested in exposing their odd, cosmic friendship. “Didn’t get lucky,” he confirms with a soft smile. “My mom called and wanted me home, so I walked back. I got a cell for Christmas, so now she can demand things of me whenever she wants.”

“Whoa, good timing. The cops came, like, thirty minutes after we’d been sitting on the deck. I have no clue who called them but thankfully I was able to get out before they caught up with me. That’d totally fuck up my spot on the team.”

“The cops were called?”

Jack glances at Alex quickly. There’s no way the other boy would have known the cops were going to be called on that party, but that was the reason he gave for going on a walk with Jack. And Jack is so not convinced that he’s not a psychic. 

“Yeah, it was crazy. I’ve never had the cops called on a party I’ve been at. I guess they were cool, they just got the people who were eighteen and drove everyone else home safely, but yeah. Good thing you left since you’re eighteen. I’m glad I got out to save myself the embarrassment of getting busted by the police. Makes you think twice about partying, huh?”

“Yeah,” Jack says, but his mind is still on Alex.

Audrey comes over after the school day ends and Jack goes into it preparing to call off their friends with benefits agreement. He’s never had to break up with someone before, and he knows this technically isn’t breaking up, but it’s the closest he’s ever gotten to it before and it leaves a nervous flutter in his joints, unsure of how to go about this so he doesn’t hurt her. He doesn’t even have a real excuse for it — _sorry, I don’t want to have hot sex with you anymore because I can’t keep a certain boy from popping into my head and it makes me nauseous_ doesn’t seem like something she’d take easily.

“So you’re not immediately pushing me into the wall or onto the bed,” she states as he closes the door to his room, and the cocked eyebrow makes Jack’s throat close up. “What gives?”

“Uh… I wanted to talk?”

She sits on his bed and he sits at his desk, the opposite of their first encounter together in his room, and he plays with the corner of a notebook and tries to collect his thoughts as she stares at him and waits. Finally he sighs, mumbles, “I don’t really know how to say this but I don’t think we should keep doing whatever we’re doing.”

“Okay,” Audrey says smoothly, no hint of confusion or anger or _anything_ , and Jack risks a glance up at her to see her looking at normal as ever. “Do I need to ask why or are you just not interested anymore? I mean — I’m not upset, Jack. It was just sex, right? I don’t need to be upset?”

“No, no, you don’t need to be upset,” Jack agrees with a smile. “It’s better that you’re not. I’ve just never had to call things off with anyone before, so I guess I was nervous. But I shoulda known you’d be cool about it.”

“I had a feeling,” Audrey tells him dismissively, offers him a little smile. “It sorta felt like you were holding out for someone else. Well, I guess not holding out since we were never together, but somewhere along the way, it felt like you fell for someone. Did you?”

Jack stares at her.

“I don’t know,” he admits after a minute, a hot flush settling on his cheeks to remind him of the confusion he’s carried for six months now. “I, uh… yeah. I don’t know. I guess, maybe, if you noticed… I dunno. It just hasn’t really felt right to sleep with you lately. Despite how good it is.”

The soft laugh she emits is a reminder of her kindness and Jack aches a little knowing that he won’t have her around anymore. “Like I said, you’re gonna make someone really happy,” she promises. “And it’s sweet that you care about not hurting me. And of course I’m still going to be your friend after this, okay? I hope it goes well with whoever your new girl is.”

Jack almost corrects her, but he holds back as she slides off the bed, cups his face and kisses his cheek and says, “I’ll see you later, Jay,” and she leaves him alone with too much on his mind.

~~~

“I broke up with Audrey.”

“ _Wait, really? Why? I thought you had a good thing with her, no feelings and great sex!_ ”

“Yeah, well… I’m sort of back on that whole gay thing, maybe?”

Zack sighs on the other end and Jack swallows thickly, feels his nerves and anxiety bite at his throat again. “ _I thought we agreed on not gay, but bi,_ ” Zack says. “ _You haven’t told me anything about this guy, you know? Or why you had to stop sleeping with Audrey to pine over him without actually doing anything._ ”

“It didn’t feel right,” Jack explains. “Every time we slept together, I just felt weird doing it. I haven’t quite made my peace with being bi, though. Especially because this guy hasn’t given me any reason to believe that he’s interested in guys. Or anyone, really. Maybe he’s asexual.”

“ _Jack, I don’t mean to discount your feelings, but what’s the deal with this guy? When have you even hung out? You’ve never told me his name or anything important that’s happened with him, so I feel like I’m missing a key piece to understanding what’s going on._ ”

Jack sighs, tilts his head back on his pillows and looks out the window at the moon. “His name is Alex,” he admits. “He’s, uh… I don’t know how to describe it, Zack. It’s like there’s this connection between us that’s so deep and so otherworldly but I barely know anything about him. I feel like we’ve known each other for centuries, though. Lifetimes. We ran into each other at a party on New Year’s Eve and ditched to go on a walk together and he just talked and talked, the first time he’s really talked with me instead of just spewing a bunch of cryptic shit that makes me wonder if I’m on an acid trip. But he’s so smart and creative, and he has this way with words, god. I swear, Zack, all I can do is look at him. I’ve never found guys attractive before, you know? But all I want to do is stare at him. I want to kiss him every time we interact. And I know all of that sounds like a fucking crush, okay, but I don’t even know if it’s a real crush or if I’m just confused because he’s such an interesting person.”

“ _It does sound like a crush. A really bad crush. I mean, he wouldn’t talk to you if he didn’t want to be friends, right? He wouldn’t go on a walk with you on New Year’s Eve unless you were friends? Just try to hang out with him more and focus some more time on how you really feel around him. When was the last time you had a serious, real crush on someone?_ ”

“It’s been a long time. A _long_ time. Maybe not ever, honestly. Not a crush that makes me as nervous or excited as this.”

“ _Just try to hang out with him, Jack. Maybe try to get a feel for his sexuality, or how he acts around you. You’re not stupid; use some emotional intelligence and do some digging._ ”

That’s how Jack ends up in the library during the lunch period in the astronomy section, trying to find any book he can on space theories and the science behind the multiverse or parallel universes. He’s not sure what he’s expecting to find at a high school library, and it turns out to be wildly unsuccessful, with the exception of the fact that he runs right into Alex on his way out the front doors.

“Why are you at the library?” he asks curiously, and Alex straightens his shirt from where the impact wrinkled it, scowls at Jack.

“I’m always at the library. Why are _you_ at the library?”

“I… was looking for something on space,” he admits hesitantly, and Alex raises an eyebrow. “You know, like, what you were talking about on New Year’s. Multiverses, or whatever. I was in the astronomy section.”

“Well, you should have looked in cosmology.”

“I don’t know what that is.”

Alex rolls his eyes and breezes past him, leaves him standing in the entrance of the library by himself, and then he hears the younger boy call, “Are you coming or what?” and he can’t ignore the burst of excitement in his chest at the thought that Alex wants to spend time with him again. 

The boy leads him to the cosmology aisle — of course he knows where it is — and gestures to a certain section, states, “We don’t have the best selection here. But Steven Hawking is one of the best, if you can get a grasp on all the theoretical language and physics concepts. It’s a lot to take in at once. Definitely requires a few reads and access to a computer or a dictionary. So if you’re not looking to spend all your time trying to figure this out, I wouldn’t recommend it.”

Jack’s leaning against the opposing shelf as Alex points out the section of books by Hawking that he’s talking about, that slender finger tracing along the spine of one as he speaks. Jack’s paying less attention to his words than he is those fingers or the honey-sweet timbre of his voice. Alex turns to him then, eyes flicking to the titles next to Jack’s head, and suddenly the younger boy is stepping into Jack’s personal space as he reaches for the book. The quick, sharp intake of air that Jack takes as his heart skips is enough for Alex to glance at him as he crowds him, doesn’t seem concerned with the fact that their chests are four inches away from each other or that Jack’s about ready to have a fucking aneurysm over this because Alex’s eyes are right there on his and his lips are just _waiting_ for Jack to kiss them. But Jack just stares right back at him as he tries to breathe — ideally some fresh air instead of that earthy nutmeg, but if he dies surrounded by that scent, he wouldn’t be upset — and then suddenly Alex is pulling the book from the shelf and returning to his spot in the middle of the aisle, a respectable distance from Jack, who’s sure his pounding heart is going to expose how nervous he gets in Alex’s presence.

“This one’s not within the realm cosmology as a study,” Alex is saying as he flips the cover open to read the summary. “But it’s still interesting. It’s more hypothetical fiction, if that makes sense? Like, a grasp of all the different lifetimes one person could live in various universes. It’s a little easier to comprehend the science behind it when it’s written out in story format.”

_So in what universe do we end up making out in the library aisle?_ Jack wonders, and he swallows thickly and straightens his shoulders and tries desperately to find some semblance of pride to cling to. If Alex can sense his nerves, he doesn’t mention it, and Jack’s not sure if he’s grateful or if he’d rather open up a discussion about why he loses all composure when Alex is close to him.

“I appreciate you pointing out the easier-to-grasp books,” he manages to get out, and Alex raises an eyebrow.

“You should be appreciating that I thought you were worthy of Hawking.”

“Why’s that?”

“Well, he’s one of the most esteemed scientists in the world with the most complex theories and scientific evidence built around it. Do I actually think you’d be able to grasp them? No. But you should appreciate the sentiment anyway.”

Jack grins at him. “Then I suppose I’ll appreciate the sentiment.”

~~~

“Jack Barakat, you have been _holding out_ on me,” John says with that wide grin, resting his back on the locker between Jack and Alex’s. Alex is silently dialing the combination for his, adamantly ignoring John’s presence as usual, and Jack just sighs and figures the only way out of this is to entertain him.

“And on what have I been holding out, John O’Callaghan?”

“ _I_ heard that you swung back some shots with our one and only Teddy Boy,” John boasts, and one swift glance at Alex is enough for Jack to see the irritation at the nickname. John glances at the other boy as well, and Alex has yet to acknowledge either of them. “This opens up a whole new world! For one thing, I didn’t even know that Teddy Boy partied, and for another, I had no idea you two even knew each other beyond reputation.”

“John O’Callaghan, I swear, if you don’t learn my real name this year, I will punt you into another life,” Alex says, smooth and low and cold, and Jack stifles a laugh at how well that describes Alex’s personality. 

“It was just a shot,” Jack jumps in swiftly, before John can interrogate Alex. “We ran into each other on the deck before my mom called and I was drunk and he said he’d never taken a shot before, so… you know. My drunk, sociable self had to give him the experience. He took it better than I did.”

“Okay, Mr. Gaskarth, when did you start partying?” John asks incredulously. “I’ve never once seen you at a party.”

“If I wanted to be seen, I’d be seen,” Alex states, and then he closes his locker and walks away.

“God, he’s so fucking weird,” John mutters before he turns all his attention on Jack. “So? What was it like talking with Teddy at a party? Is he as weird as usual?”

Jack shrugs, tries to buy himself some time to figure out what Alex would want him to say — sure, he’d like to stick up for the smaller boy, but he knows Alex appreciates his wallflower lifestyle within school walls. “He’s not that weird,” he finally says. “I mean. I was drunk. I don’t remember much of it. But I guess he was nice enough for me to want to take a shot with. That’s more than I could say about some of the people in our grade.”

“I _also_ heard you called things off with your little girlfriend.”

“Not my girlfriend,” Jack reminds him. “And how exactly did you hear that?”

“I know everything, Jack, haven’t you figured that out? I overheard her talking to some of her friends in advisory. Sounds like it was an easy break, right? She didn’t seem upset.”

“Well, that’s because we weren’t dating. But yeah, it was easy. Just not the right time for us to be doing what we were doing.”

“You’re a fucking idiot, dude. You got to hook up with one of the prettiest girls in school and you end it because it ‘wasn’t the right time.’ There’s no wrong time to be having good sex, you realize. You’re definitely going to regret this decision in a week when you’re desperate to get laid again.”

“Well, John, if you’re so invested in my sex life, maybe you should start thinking about your own.”

There’s a note in his locker at the end of the day. He hasn’t gotten one in a long time; he and Alex haven’t exchanged anything since Alex left his address. The other boy has yet to make an appearance at his own locker, so Jack carefully unfolds the note to see that loopy handwriting: _looking for a change of location?_ and Jack stares at it for a solid minute trying to decipher what that means, and he still comes up empty. He hopes that maybe he’ll see Alex before he leaves and be able to ask him, but the other boy never shows, so Jack slips a reply of **yes** into Alex’s locker and goes home with more questions than answers, as usual.

There’s no note in his locker the next morning. Nor is there a note at lunch, and there’s no note at the end of the day either, and nothing meticulously slipped into his car. He sits in his room for the rest of the afternoon hoping he’ll get a phone call, only to remember that Alex doesn’t have his phone number unless he really is psychic, and while Jack wouldn’t put it past him, he doesn’t think Alex would be that blatantly obvious about it. He tries not to think about it too much — maybe Alex is fucking with him intentionally, or maybe he didn’t mean a change of location today or any time soon — but it still sits pretty at the front of his brain.

“Where’s Audrey been lately?” his mother asks from across the table, and Jack swallows, glances up at her briefly and quickly back down, doesn’t want to see the disappointment she’s sure to display when he tells her.

“Uh… I called things off.”

“What?! Jack, why? Did something happen?”

“No, I just wasn’t interested anymore.”

There’s a silence and then a heavy sigh, and Joyce says, “I just wish you’d let yourself be happy, Jack,” and he swallows around the lump in his throat.

“A girl isn’t going to suddenly make me happy,” he reminds her. “If anything, it’s better for me to end it than keep it going.”

“I know, I just don’t see why you didn’t even let yourself make it serious. You always insisted she wasn’t your girlfriend but you saw her pretty frequently, you know? And she was so pretty and kind and respectful, I just… don’t know why you wouldn’t want that. Why you wouldn’t want that to be a real relationship. Most of your peers are dying to experience love.”

“It just didn’t click like that between us.”

“Why don’t you go on some dates, then? Find someone it does click with?”

There is someone, but Jack can’t tell her that. “I don’t want to,” he says reluctantly. “I don’t really care about having a girlfriend right now. I know you want me to, but… I don’t know. I’m sorry. I just don’t.”

“It’s okay,” she tells him softly. “You don’t have to be sorry for not wanting a relationship right now. I just want you to be happy, Jack. You don’t feel happy anymore.”

“I don’t know what else to do,” he tries, glancing up at her, and she smiles sadly. 

“I know, baby. Maybe you should go to therapy.”

“No, I don’t want to do that.”

“Are you sure? I’ve heard it’s helpful-,”

“No. I don’t want to.”

It’s the end of the conversation, but the rest of dinner is painfully quiet and Jack finds it difficult to eat with the lump of guilt that swells in his throat. He silently does the dishes afterwards and tries to come up with ways to make his parents happy — maybe he should go on some dates, just to show he’s trying. Or maybe he should have John over sometime to prove that he does sort of have a friend. Or maybe he _should_ go to therapy and have someone other than Zack to vent to about his confusion around his sexuality and Alex’s addictive presence.

It’s eleven when the house shifts and settles with a soft creaking noise and a tap. Jack’s on his back on his bed, staring up at his white ceiling in the dark and watching the shadow of the tree sway in the moonlight. The low, nauseous feeling of guilt still knocks at his chest, unwilling to retreat back to where it came from, and Jack doesn’t know what to do other than glower at the white paint. There’s another tap and he sighs, wishes the tree wouldn’t hit his window and scrape with the branches, especially in the middle of the night. And then there’s two more taps, one right after the other, and he frowns, glancing over at the window at the same time as a pebble knocks against it.

His eyebrows furrow deeper and he sits up as another pebble connects with the glass, sliding out of bed and hesitantly peeking out of his window to find Alex looking right back up at him, with hand filled with rocks. Jack knows he’s making an incredulous look of astonishment as he pushes the window open, hissing as loudly as he can, “What the fuck are you doing?” and Alex grins.

“You said you wanted a change of location.”

“ _What_?”

“Come on, come outside.”

So Jack finds himself walking away from his house with Alex by his side, hands shoved in the pockets of the hoodie he’d grabbed last minute. It’s cold now that it’s January, a frosty chill every night that threatens snowfall but never delivers. Alex doesn’t seem terribly affected by the cold, but Jack’s silently pleading that they go somewhere warm, wherever the other boy is planning on taking him.

“So what made you decide to _Say Anything_ it?” he finally asks. 

Alex looks up at him curiously. “Say what?”

“ _Say Anything_? The guy with the boombox?”

“How are you interpreting a boombox from rocks?”

“Well — the whole standing outside the window to get the attention of the person who holds your affection.”

Alex snorts and rolls his eyes. “Yeah, that’s totally what that was. Uh, I didn’t have your phone number so I couldn’t call you, and it’s all the more fun to throw shit at your window and demand you come outside with me so you can’t tell me that you’re doing other things.”

“So is your show cancelled tonight?”

“No.”

“It’s already after eleven-,”

“Will you _please_ stop asking questions for once and just figure it out as it goes?”

There’s a visible puff of air as Jack huffs, glaring at Alex as he realizes that his nose has gone numb. “Can’t you, like, drive? Why do you walk everywhere?”

“For god’s sake, what did I _just_ say-,”

“I wasn’t asking about where we’re going!”

The set of Alex’s jaw is enough to give away his annoyance. “I don’t have my license yet. And walking is peaceful, especially at night. Haven’t you learned that by now?”

“It’s ass cold out here, dude.”

“You get used to it.”

Jack bites back his remark that he shouldn’t _have_ to get used to it, and they fall into silence again as Alex leads the way. Jack has a billion questions brewing, settled right on the tip of his tongue, but he manages to hold back, at least for now. The cold has seeped through his hoodie by now, drawing out goosebumps on his arms and leaving him trembling, but there’s only so long he can be out anyway before Alex has to start his show. 

But Alex leads him to the radio station house, and suddenly Jack thinks he gets it.

The other boy leads him inside to a studio room and closes the door behind them, settles in the soft spinning chair in front of the microphone. Jack takes a hesitant seat beside him and looks at all the dials on the soundboard in front of them — for some reason, he’d always pictured Alex just sitting in his room with headphones and a phone to do the show, but he realizes now that there’s no way to actually broadcast unless they’re in a station. So he keeps that comment to himself because he knows Alex would call him an idiot for it.

Silently, Alex works the room until it’s what he needs. He dims the light down as low as they go, moves the microphone to a place where he can easily access it, makes sure the headphones are nearby and waiting and offers Jack a pair as well, and then cycles through various cassette tapes and matches the title of them to the titles in a journal that’s kept in a drawer so he knows what songs are on it and what order they’re in. Jack watches quietly — he has no idea why Alex is letting him in on this. On the production of his radio show. 

They don’t speak again before the show starts. They both put the headphones on and Alex tucks his feet up beside him on the chair, a move he’s obviously perfected over the course of his time in the station. He adjusts some knobs and presses a button and then the light in the corner brightens to say _on air_ and Alex begins the show.

**Sunshine Boy**

_Hi, everyone, welcome to Ground Control. For our new listeners, I’m your host, Sunshine Boy, and for our old listeners, welcome back. It’s a cold night out there but we haven’t seen snow quite yet — let’s keep it that way, yeah? For new callers, our number is (410) 555-FINE. Before we put anyone on live, let’s take a moment and breathe through Blinded by Emmitt Fenn._

_Caller one, you’re on the air._

**Chip Skylark**

_Hi Sunshine, Chip here!_

**Sunshine Boy**

_Hey, Chip. How’s it going? Still with your lovely lady?_

**Chip Skylark**

_I sure am, and she’s actually listening tonight! First time I’ve let her in on our little insomniac community here, so don’t go embarrassing me._

**Sunshine Boy**

_[laughter] No promises, Skylark. Does your girlfriend have an alias we can refer to her by or should we just keep calling her ‘the lady friend?’_

**Chip Skylark**

_[laughter] You know, I think ‘the lady friend’ works._ ****

**Sunshine Boy**

_All right, lady friend, we’re glad to have you listening in tonight. With any luck, you’re not an insomniac like the rest of us and you’ll be passed out by one. Chip, how are you?_

**Chip Skylark**

_I’m doing well, Sunshine. Clearly, since I have a lady staying the night with me, if you know what I mean._

**Sunshine Boy**

_Whoa, keep it PG, Chip! I’m glad to hear you’re doing well. I actually have a little something special planned for tonight, so maybe you and your girl can stay awake — and fully present — for it. Next caller, you’re on._

**Lisa**

_Hi, Sunshine! It’s Lisa._

**Sunshine Boy**

_Lisa, darling, how good to hear from you. What brings you to the show tonight?_

**Lisa**

_Oh, you know, the usual late night wakefulness. I’m curious about what your surprise is, though! Anything more you can share about that?_

**Sunshine Boy**

_Ah, you’ll find out soon enough. We’ll be cutting calls a little short tonight, maybe by fifteen minutes or so. Have you found any cool antiques lately, Lisa?_

**Lisa**

_Yes, I have, actually! Some old picture frames from the early 1900s and some mid-century barware._

**Sunshine Boy**

_… At the risk of sounding like a fool, which century are they from the middle of?_

**Lisa**

_The 20th century, Sunshine._

**Sunshine Boy**

_Gotcha. Well, even as someone who knows nothing about antiques or barware, I’m always intrigued to hear what you have to find. Let’s take a little break here and listen to Nobody but Us by Sebastian Olzanski. For those of you out there with a romantic partner, this one’s for you._

Jack’s picking up on Alex’s habits as he watches him. He twirls his hair around his finger relentlessly, genuinely laughs and smiles at what the callers say, breathes along with the music like he suggests the listeners do. He closes his eyes with that soft smile and mutes himself as the song plays, inhales and exhales deeply, and Jack rests his head in his arms on the table and breathes as well, tries to listen the same way he would in bed at home. He watches Alex, though, takes advantage of his closed eyes to admire his features in this low light with the love song in the background, and he briefly wonders how Alex would react if he kissed him right now.

Alex takes a few more callers and plays a few more songs, barely looks at Jack as he engages with the callers, but he looks happy. Jack’s not sure he’s ever seen him look genuinely happy, relaxed and soft and sweet, as if he doesn’t have a whole confusing multiverse theory that consumes his every thought and directs his every interaction. Those brown eyes look tired but there’s a golden glint to them that Jack’s never seen before, and it gives away just how much he loves doing this radio show.

**Sunshine Boy**

_Okay, listeners, we’re going to call a wrap on callers tonight. We’ll be back to normal next week, but if you like how this show goes, feel free to give me feedback on a call next show. Now, for those of you who don’t know — which I’ll assume is most, unless you’re me — this is the two year anniversary of our first show. I’ll be the first to say that I never thought this would turn into what it did, let alone last this long with good turnout. So first and foremost, I’d like to thank every listener and caller who’s ever participated, even if I’ve never known your name. It’s all of you who make this show happen, and I’m forever grateful._

_When I started this show, I was in the worst mental state of my life. I’d lost a very close family member about six months prior, quite unexpectedly, which is about when my insomnia got bad. I wasn’t able to fall asleep, let alone stay asleep, unless I took some kind of sleep medication, which has never been something I’m eager to partake in — no judgment to those who do. Most days I didn’t leave my house; I just listened to music and wrote incessantly and started reading books on psychology, cosmology, death, everything I could get my hands on to occupy me through the night._

_Anyway, I started this show because I didn’t have anyone to talk to anymore. The person I lost was the only one I had who I was able to engage with on a personal level, so I lost myself in my loneliness and my depression for about six months before I finally started this show. I wasn’t intending for it to become what it did, though — which is family. After growing up in a tense, estranged household, I wasn’t under the impression that family was something I would have in my life, and I only started this show because I wanted to show people the music I liked and be able to vent about the things that kept me up at night, but I’ve grown a deep love and compassion for every caller. You folks all feel like my family, despite having never met, and I’m more appreciative of you than you’ll ever know. I can only hope I’ve provided the same welcoming love and compassion for each of you, and I can’t extend enough gratitude for the fact that this show and its callers pulled me out of my depression._

_Now, for the last ten or so minutes, I’d like to try something new, if you’re all still with me. There’s a meditative world I’ve created for myself when my insomnia knocks louder than usual, and I’d like to share it with you tonight, if you’ll have me. I’m sure most of you understand how meditation works, but try to breathe along with the pace of the narration. Keep your eyes closed, focus on pulling your breath from deep within your ribs and exhale until your chest caves. I’m going to put on some quiet instrumentals in the background, so lie down in a comfortable spot, close your eyes, and take a step outside of our scientific, material world for a while._

_I’m building a place — something amazing, for the sake of us. Imagine you’re outside on a comfortable night. You’re walking barefoot on soft, fresh soil with the earthy smell of it calming your senses. The air is still, but there’s just enough movement to remind you that you’re real. It’s late, around midnight, and the stars are visible without the city light pollution. They sing down at you, urging you to follow the soil into the forest. This isn’t Earth, but it’s close — above you, instead of our rocky satellite, your moon is made of paper, crunched over and over until it’s soft and worn, a reminder of her age and her endless devotion to your life. How long has the moon been with you? Twenty years? Thirty? Can you remember a time when she hasn’t been watching you?_

_You created her, somewhere along the line. Maybe your first day on this planet, you crumpled her up and threw her to the sky to follow you in orbit as a guide. The soil, the trees, the subtle breeze that caresses your skin, you’ve created all of it to escape the ties that bind us so tightly to our waking lives. The plastic heart in your chest beats in time with your footsteps as you descend into the forestry. Your paper moon follows silently behind to direct you, and you roll the dice on whatever’s left of your physical being as you ascend from your host. Breathe in, smell the soil and the night sky and take in the presence of your paper moon, hold her inside of your chest for a few seconds. Let her calm you. She knows you, doesn’t she? Exhale and let her out, trust her to guide you from afar._

_Your physical body left behind, your soul carries on, deeper into the forest. Perhaps there’s an owl hooting in the distance or the rustle of a deer amongst fallen leaves. You’re not worried about what’s in the forest — you made this world. Everything here is a lesson, a reminder of your home here. You know that following the owl will bring you into a world of wisdom, whereas following the deer will bring regeneration. There is no wrong lifetime to choose; you’ll be here again to take another in the future. Your paper moon offers her soft support. Before you decide, take another deep inhale. Lift the leaves from the forest floor with the depth of it, suspend them between your ribs for a second, and slowly let them flutter back down on the exhale. Repeat this pattern a few times, hear the leaves rustle as they settle, and when your soul decides on tonight’s lifetime, your body will meet you at the crossroads._

_We’re going to end tonight’s show here, listeners. Remember, when real life just isn’t right — fabricate. Goodnight, folks._

Jack’s woken up by Alex’s hand on his shoulder, shaking him awake with a whisper of his name.

He manages to open his eyes enough to see Alex smiling softly at him, his vision blurry from sleep, and he blinks a few times. “You fell asleep,” Alex whispers. “It’s after one. You should get home.”

Jack hums and yawns into his arm, rubs at his eye with his fist and sits up slowly, watches as Alex carefully puts everything back where he’d found it. The younger boy hands him a fleece blanket that’s been sitting in the corner of the studio and Jack frowns curiously as he takes it, prompts Alex to explain, and the smaller boy simply says, “I get cold in here sometimes. You’ll be freezing on the walk back.”

So they start their trail back to Jack’s house. His eyes are still stinging from the few minutes of sleep that were interrupted, not to mention the cold drying them, but he’s too sleepy to complain about it. He’s too busy daydreaming about Alex’s nectar-sweet voice, so soothing and therapeutic in his meditative exercise, and he finds himself hoping that he does more of that — clearly it worked to put Jack to sleep. He has no memory of when he fell asleep.

“Do you have any idea how incredible you are?”

Alex looks up at him, clearly taken aback, and Jack just stares right back at him waiting for his answer. Alex swallows thickly and looks away with a shrug, watching his feet on the pavement as he mumbles, “I dunno, I guess I don’t know what you mean.”

“I mean exactly that,” Jack confirms. “I’m serious. You took a traumatic life event that you shouldn’t have experienced and you turned it into a hobby and a community. You read these impossible books about cosmological theory and psychology and you can explain it as if you discovered it on your own. You have this _energy_ that hooks people. You’re somehow the kindest, most compassionate, most apathetic person I’ve ever met. I don’t know how you manage it all.”

The other boy doesn’t respond, and Jack can sense that he’s overwhelmed by that because he’s avoiding eye contact but his eyes are wide and his cheeks are pinker than they should be in the cold and the vibe he’s holding gives it all away. The sharp air fills the silence between them somehow, shifting the leaves on the trees they pass, and the blanket around Jack’s shoulders doesn’t do a lot to keep him warm but the gesture was sweet.

“I —,” Alex pauses, frowns to himself and kicks a stone on the sidewalk that shoots out into the street, and then he takes a deep breath and tries again. “I’m not very… good at this whole friend thing,” he finally admits, quiet and sincere and uneasy, the first time Jack’s ever heard him truly nervous or shy. “I guess that’s pretty obvious though. And I guess you must have something about you that brings me back, ‘cause I’ve never… _tried_ to be friends with anyone. I was happy to be alone. A-And I still am, but it’s also… well, you know. It’s nice to have someone to walk around with at night.” He sighs and his shoulders slump, and Jack would reach over and hold his hand if he thought Alex wouldn’t hit him. “I just haven’t had anyone to fully trust in a long time.”

“So you _do_ want to be friends with me."

“I mean. The script must think so.”

“Forget the script,” Jack laughs. “What do you _want_? You, in this present moment, disregarding timelines and neurons and destinies or whatever. Your active feelings before you start to overanalyze the multiverse and the exact particle replicas that there might be elsewhere out there. Cause _I_ want to be your friend, you know? You’re so interesting and I want to hear you talk all the time and I think I could learn from you. I think we could have a really good friendship. But you gotta forget about the existential for a bit and tell me what you, in this body and this timeline, want from me.”

Alex thinks quietly for a moment — which defeats the purpose of _active feelings_ — but Jack doesn’t pressure him. He’s gathering that Alex isn’t as disconnected from their encounters as he’s played off, given that the younger boy is thinking about friendship and trust between them. Jack can’t help but feel a little bit honored that Alex thinks he’s good enough to be friends with after having never had a friend in person before. He wonders how that came about, what made Alex decide to engage with him, but he won’t question it right now. Another time.

“I’d like to keep doing what we’ve been doing,” Alex finally says, very carefully, like he’s still choosing what words he wants to use. “That’s all I know for now.”

Jack laughs incredulously. “Wow. That gave me literally nothing to go off of, but okay. I’ll work with it.”

Alex rolls his eyes dramatically, and they lapse back into silence as they turn onto Jack’s street. It must be past one-thirty now, and Jack’s tired, Alex’s smooth meditative voice still echoing in his head. The moon doesn’t feel real to him now, feels more like that crumpled paper ball that Alex described, and the cold chill feels intentional, like he made this world and this night for himself. He knows that’s the point — to separate himself from the material present — but it’s a new sensation for him. He wonders if this is what Alex does to erode.

~~~

He takes it upon himself to label his relationship with Alex as ‘friends.’ Sure, the younger boy didn’t agree to that, necessarily, but Jack doesn’t know what else to call them, especially now that they’ve had a brief, unhelpful discussion about what Alex wants from him — which appears to be both nothing and everything. Jack can deal with ambiguity, he thinks. Besides, Alex is the one who’s leading their interactions, so Jack will just idly wait by until the next one comes around.

Alex doesn’t engage with him at all during school. They almost never see each other at their lockers, which Jack is pretty sure is intentional, and they don’t have any classes together and Alex doesn’t eat lunch in the lunchroom where Jack sits with John and the other baseball guys. Jack’s not sure he’s ever seen Alex eat, now that he thinks about it, thus adding to his list of inhuman beings that Alex might be: a vampire. Somehow, he doesn’t think that one would go over well with the other boy, so he thinks he’ll keep it to himself.

What _does_ interest him is that he’s suddenly seeing Alex interact with Tay Jardine. Tay is a junior, on the more popular side of the school’s hierarchy — she’s got the most unique fashion style that Jack’s ever seen and she’s pretty and has a lot of friends, so it’s definitely interesting that she’s engaging with Alex, who has never cared once about making friends, let alone friends with the popular people. It’s mostly interesting because it looks like Alex is being _nice_ to her, from what little Jack can tell from afar. There’s the hint of a smile on his lips — nothing like the one he gets when he does the radio show, but still there — and he actually looks at her instead of giving her a side-eye, like he’s eager to be part of their conversation. Jack briefly wonders if Alex is flirting with her, scoping out a date, and he feels a quick flash of jealousy that spreads hot through his veins at the thought of it.

He doesn’t get a chance to ask him about it until over a week later, though. Alex shows up outside of his house on a Friday evening, tossing rocks at his window until he realizes that it’s not the house creaking, and Jack suggests that they go for a drive. Alex seems reluctant to agree, but after confirming that they can and will hotbox his car, he gives in and slides into the passenger seat. He directs Jack to a private road where no one lives, claims that it’s the most discreet place to smoke and not get the cops called, and Jack eyes him warily. “Are you sure?” he questions. “I am so not trying to get cited for getting stoned in my car on some private county road. I’m eighteen, dude, it’s more of a risk for me than for you.”

“No one’s gonna see us. No cops. Just be sure to turn your lights off.”

“I’m only trusting you because I think you can see the future.”

Alex laughs as he pulls a joint and a lighter from his jacket pocket, kicks his feet up on the dashboard as he lights up. “How many times do I need to tell you that you think too highly of me?”

Jack shrugs as he takes the joint, inhales deeply. Alex is turning him into a stoner, if nothing else — not that they’ve smoked that many times. But still, he used to never smoke; he used to hate being high. Now it’s nice, sharing a joint with Alex and just talking or listening to music in silence. Being high is fun for a slow night, but not for a party. Besides, it’s easier to not chastise himself for admiring Alex’s features when he’s high; he can play it off as zoning out as he stares at those pretty pink lips. 

“So,” Jack begins after a few hits, resting his head on the headrest of the seat. “Tay?”

Alex glances at him as he hands the joint back, slowly blowing out the smoke. “Tay? Jardine? What about her?”

“You’ve been hanging out with her at school.”

Alex laughs humorlessly. “Hardly.”

“Okay, well, maybe not _hanging out_ but you’ve been talking to her, which is more attention than you give anyone else at the school. What gives? Are you guys a thing?”

“You’re very interested in the concept of my love life,” Alex notes, and Jack doesn’t have the mental capacity to be embarrassed by that right now. “What makes you think I have a ‘thing’ with Tay Jardine? We’ve talked, like, three times.”

“Yeah, dude, exactly. You don’t talk to anyone and now you’re suddenly talking with a cute popular girl? Come on, we’re _acquaintances_ now, so you have to tell me all the details of your love life. That’s how this works.”

“Well, then, there are no details to tell because it’s not a love life.”

“Really? ‘Cause she’s the first girl I’ve seen you give the time of day.”

“You’re very persistent,” Alex points out, and then he takes a hit and Jack waits quietly because he wants some answers. For reasons he doesn’t want to admit to right now. “Tay wanted to know where I get my clothes. She’s been interested in getting some denim jackets and ripped jeans and obviously I know where to get shit like that, so she’s been asking for recommendations on where to go. That’s all. No _love life_. Sorry to disappoint.”

“That’s it?”

“That’s it.”

“That’s so boring. Don’t you _want_ a love life? Even just a first kiss? Or are you asexual or something?”

The younger boy laughs as he shakes his head, and Jack takes a hit as he waits for Alex to answer. “You know, just because I’m not eager to hook up with whoever will have me doesn’t mean I’m asexual. A love life just isn’t really top of priorities right now. And I would imagine that if anyone in this town was interested in me like that, it would have happened already. Which is fine with me. I’m not particularly interested in anyone here either.”

“I think you should at least kiss someone. You’re seventeen. Besides, you have the whole school under your thumb with the whole mysterious, punk, bad boy reputation you’ve got — don’t girls love that shit?”

“Maybe if I was popular, sure. Or if I had any interest in being popular. I like being alone and independent, though. And if I was meant to find someone here, or if I was meant to have kissed someone already, then I’d know by now.”

“Ah, right. All your timelines.”

“More about the script, but sure.”

“Can’t you write your own script?”

“What, just write a first kiss into the script?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, even if I did, then that decision would have been written for me already. You know? If I was to kiss you at this very second, it might come as a surprise to both of us, a split second decision made on my part, but that decision would have been scripted for me beforehand. I just wouldn’t have known it. But considering I haven’t kissed anyone, and considering that I have no intention of kissing you tonight, there must be something in the script for the future that aligns with the fact that I haven’t kissed anyone yet.”

Jack hums an acknowledgment. His high brain is stuck on the thought of Alex leaning across the center console and kissing him, those pink oleander lips slotted between his. He shakes the thought away — he doesn’t want to accidentally act on that because he’s high — and asks, “So you just have no active desire for a first kiss because you trust that the script will write it in when you’re ready for it?”

“I mean, I’ll admit that I’ve been _curious_ about it, but yeah. The script will write it in when it’s the right time for it to happen.”

“What if it happens and it doesn’t feel right? What if it’s someone you didn’t want to kiss, or what if you actively pray against it with one person and it happens with them anyway?”

“Then it must be for a reason, right? Maybe it wouldn’t feel right to me as a measly human, but on some other plane of existence that I can’t register, maybe it’s right for that.”

“Dude, you lost me.”

Alex laughs. “Planes of existence, Jack. There’s the conscious thought, right? That’s everything that you actively know about yourself, your active thoughts and decisions. Recollection. Then there’s the subconscious, which is like… If conscious is Heaven and unconscious is Hell, then the subconscious is Purgatory. A middle-ground. That’s another plane of existence, one that we’ll never be able to fully grapple with because we can’t view it in our conscious state. Then there’s the unconscious, which we can sort of view in sleep studies and shit like that but again, we can’t view our own unconscious in the conscious state. So if we come back to a kiss that feels like it’s wrong — maybe it’d feel wrong on the conscious level of existence, but maybe it’s right for the subconscious or the unconscious. Or, if we’re looking at Freud, the id or the superego.”

“You told me something about planes a while ago,” Jack recalls. “Controlling them, or whatever.”

“Right, yeah. Control the planes that construct you. I mean, there’s no way to fully gain control of them, but there’s management. Like, cognitive behavioral therapy is a way to manage the conscious, which then builds a bridge to the subconscious, and therefore the unconscious.”

“So you told me to go to therapy.”

The younger boy laughs and shrugs. “Do with that as you please.”

“Okay, no, wait, back to your love life. I need to psychoanalyze you. You’re a seventeen year old guy with no experience. Don’t you want it? A first kiss, sex, romance, any of it?”

“Honestly?” Alex shrugs again and takes a hit while he thinks, stares at the ceiling of the car as he blows it out. “It’s not that important to me. I don’t think that I would get that much pleasure out of having sex with someone. And romance doesn’t feel real to me. I can see how kissing would be nice, sure, but sex? I don’t know that that’s for me. I don’t want to be responsible for someone else’s pleasure and I don’t want someone else trying to be responsible for mine. I think I could easily fall in love with someone, if there was someone around for me to fall in love with, but I’d rather it be a very steady, nonsexual, inherent trust kind of love instead of a whirlwind of rapid emotion and constant sex.”

“You’re sounding very asexual right now.”

“I mean, I’m not asexual, I still… Well. I just don’t think that I need to have sex with other people. I can do it myself just fine, and it’s stress-free.”

“So you want to be in love, but you don’t want to have sex, but you do want to kiss.”

“If we’re really going to simplify it, I guess. There’s more to it than that. And maybe my interest in having sex will change in the future, but right now, I just don’t really see the appeal. But I also have some trust issues, so maybe if I really trust the person I’m with, I’ll be more interested in sex.”

“You’re seventeen, how can you have trust issues already?!”

“Well, in case you’ve forgotten, I don’t have any friends at the school because of my sense of style and my music taste, and because of some inaccurate elementary school nickname that had to stick with me all through my education. Thanks, John O’Callaghan. Not to mention I lost the one person who I really _did_ trust, so… it’s harder to find someone new to put trust in when I’ve lost the person who had it.”

“Aren’t your parents around for you to trust?”

Alex scoffs and rolls his eyes, grinds out the dead end of the joint in the car’s ashtray. “You’re gonna have to get me much more inebriated to talk about my relationship with my parents.”

“It’s not good?”

“Complicated, at best.”

“What about your show callers? Would you trust any of them?”

“What, in a relationship?”

“Maybe, sure. Let’s go with that.”

“Falcon asked me that one time. I mean — it’d be easier, at least. It’s not like I have any kind of romantic infatuation with anyone who calls in. Though, I’ll admit, I do think Lisa and I are together in another timeline. It’s a joke, but I’d believe it. And I think Chip and I are best friends, near brothers, in another timeline. Most of them feel like business relationships, you know? Ash feels like a business partner who’s found her calling at another company. Falcon feels like the semi-absent producer who comes through with the biggest ideas. Starlit feels like the typical TV show psychic. I love all of them with every bit of me, but I can’t imagine myself _dating_ any of them. I don’t really have a clear idea of who I’d be interested in dating.”

“You and Lisa? Really?”

“This show has been on for over two years, you know. Lisa’s been there since the beginning. Her personality in this timeline aligns with a personality that I feel for myself in another timeline. The third timeline would be those personalities together.”

“What’s the personality?”

“Farm life, dude. Haven’t you heard Lisa? All about antiques, gardening, owning a large plot of land with horses and goats and chickens… I would _love_ a life like that, in another timeline. I don’t even know how old she is, honestly, probably in her twenties. I don’t know how old they think I am. You’re the only one who knows I’m seventeen.”

“God. Farm life sounds miserable.”

“All right, love-guru-slash-sex-addict, what’s got you so single? Why’d you break up with Audrey?”

Jack swallows thickly, looks up at the ceiling of the car so he doesn’t have to be reminded that it was Alex’s pretty lips and kind eyes that encouraged him to end things with Audrey. “Uh… just didn’t feel right, I guess. Moving here has thrown me in such a loop that I can’t even casually have sex with anyone. It’s weird.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, like — back in Providence, I had my best friend Zack, and we were joined at the hip. Partied together, went to school together, had most of the same mutual friends… And with that, we were each other’s wingman. I mean, Zack didn’t need much help, but I did. I was always just grateful to get a shot at a date, let alone a kiss or anything more, you know? And now here, I’ve had Audrey and Janelle interested in me in one way or another, and I turned down Janelle after one kiss. Audrey… god, if you’re with Lisa in another timeline, I’m with Audrey. I know I’m a fucking idiot for letting her go. But I _know_ we weren’t supposed to be together, and neither of us wanted to be. She was meant to come through my life briefly, teach me something, and leave again. I just haven’t figured out what she taught me.”

“Well, if you weren’t meant to be together, then you’re not an idiot for letting her go. And maybe you’re not supposed to know what she taught you yet. Maybe that’s supposed to come later.”

“Or maybe her whole purpose was just for me to lose my virginity.”

Alex laughs, bright and happy and lazy from the high, and Jack closes his eyes and revels in the sound for a minute. “That’d probably be my first guess,” he admits. “But I’m gonna assume that if it seems like it was another lesson that you don’t know yet, it probably is. Losing your virginity as a lesson feels too easy.”

“Totally. She was way too angelic for it to be that. She definitely knew some things.”

“You’ll figure it out at some point. No one passes through your life without teaching a lesson.”

“What’s the lesson you’re supposed to teach me?”

Alex shrugs. He’s twirling a piece of his hair around his finger, staring aimlessly at the ceiling of the car, and Jack could look at him for hours if he thought it was appropriate. “I dunno. Another thing you’ll have to figure out for yourself. Maybe I’m just supposed to teach you about philosophical existentialism.”

“Or that I’m not straight.”

He curses to himself as soon as he’s said it — he’s high, but he’s not _so high_ that he couldn’t have held back that comment. Alex looks over at him with those big eyes, but he doesn’t look surprised or upset or disgusted, just curious. Always curious, Jack’s noticing. “That’s not really what I meant to say,” Jack attempts as a form of damage control, and Alex just narrows his eyes.

“Are you gay?”

“No! I literally had sex with Audrey, dude.”

“You also broke up with her even though you had the deal of a lifetime by sleeping with her and not dating her.”

“Well — shut up, I’m not gay.”

Alex shrugs again and looks back at the ceiling. “Okay. Just saying. You let go of a stunning, smart, ethereally charged girl who liked having sex with you and you’ve made remarks about kissing me, what, twice now? Several times? And now saying that I’m teaching you that you’re not straight…”

Jack groans, runs his fingers through his hair. “I do not need a recap of the evidence.”

“What gives?”

“Dude, haven’t you ever been confused about your sexuality?”

“Not really. I haven’t given it much thought, I guess. I’m open to whatever. I don’t get why it has to become an existential crisis, y’know? You fall for whoever you fall for. I don’t get why gender should have anything to do with it.”

“You’re an outlier to everything, okay, I don’t know why I listen to you.”

Alex snorts. “Sure. I just don’t think it needs to be a big deal if you fall for someone outside of your typical boundaries.”

“So if you happened to fall for a guy, you just wouldn’t question it? Even though it’d go against what society expects of us? And when we’re living in a homophobic, Republican area of the state? Or, at the very least, wouldn’t it be a massive learning curve to sleep with another guy?”

“I’m not saying I’d _flaunt_ it. My sexuality and my love life wouldn’t be public regardless of who I date. And, for the record, it’s gonna be a learning curve for me to have sex with anyone, considering I’ve never had sex. That’s also the least of my concerns about potentially dating a guy one day, y’know? In any relationship, my partner is going to have to understand that I value intellectual connection over sex.”

“Do you _ever_ want to have sex?”

“Yeah, sure. Maybe I’d love it.”

Jack hums, suddenly overwhelmingly tired from the weed, and they’re quiet for a moment before he hears Alex shift in the seat and say, “Why does it freak you out so much to potentially be interested in guys? Or me, for that matter?”

“I’m not freaked out,” Jack defends quickly. “I just never pictured it for myself. Let alone because some weird quiet kid at my new school won’t get out of my fucking head. I swear to god, you’re not human. You can’t be.”

Alex laughs, soft and melodic and warm. “So what, are you admitting to liking me?”

“ _No_ , I’m just… you and all your weird philosophy-science-thing won’t leave me alone. I’d hardly qualify it a crush. You’re just in my head a lot. You’re intriguing. You have a whole theory on life that I’ve never considered — or even fathomed — before. That doesn’t mean I have a _crush_ on you.”

“Right,” Alex says, but it doesn’t sound like he believes any of it. Jack isn’t even sure he believes it, but it sound plausible and he’s not eager to explore his sexuality while he’s high. Besides, he’s only ever been interested in girls. His mental obsession with Alex is either a fluke or the intended script for his neurons, but either way, it can’t be a crush. He’s pretty sure he knows what a crush would feel like, and this isn’t it. 

They fall silent together, the stereo playing Alex’s mixtape quietly in the background, and Jack risks a quick glance at the younger boy. He’s got his eyes closed lightly, head tilted back on the headrest with his feet up on the dashboard, his hands clasped between his thighs like his fingers are cold. There’s a soft smile that’s playing at the corners of his lips, a barely-there shadow of stubble gracing his jawline, those long eyelashes fanned out over his high cheekbones. He’s small, now that Jack’s really looking at him — he has a slim frame, small bones under soft, plump skin. He’s tall, sure, but his features aren’t big. Jack could wrap one arm around his waist so easily, wrap his fingers around his ribcage and hold him. He’s only just bigger than Audrey, more masculine, a more carefree energy. Jack always thought Audrey was carefree, but the more he got to know her, the more rigid she seemed. A perfectionist at its finest, a rule-follower, with a sense of wanderlust. That’s all she came down to. Alex is far more easygoing, with his late night walks and his apathy for other’s approval and his otherworldly mind.

“I can feel you staring, you know.”

Jack blinks, immediately feels his cheeks flush because his quick glance has turned into a solid few minutes of admiring the younger boy. “Sorry,” he says quickly. “I, uh… zoned out. Y’know. High.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Don’t do that.”

“Do what?”

“Invalidate me with a simple ‘uh-huh.’”

“I’m not invalidating you. You’re just paranoid. Y’know. High.”

“I fucking hate you.”

“Yep. We should head back, if you’re okay to drive.”

So they drive back carefully, quiet in the still of the night. Alex stares out the window the whole time and Jack’s sure he’s watching the stars and the moon the way he always does when they’re out at night. He wonders what the younger boy thinks when he looks up at the sky, whether he’s thinking about space or astrology or cosmology or something more tangible, like school or friends or love. Jack would bet against love, but he’s interested in hearing more about what Alex would want out of a relationship, given that he’s less than sold on the concept of sex. Maybe Alex just wants a best friend, someone to love from a distance with no physical aspect to the relationship. He can’t really picture Alex being physical with someone — he can imagine kissing him, making out with him, but if he thinks about anything sexual, his mind goes blank. Maybe because he’s never done anything sexual with a boy before; maybe if Alex was a girl, he’d be able to picture it better.

He drops Alex off at his house, short goodbyes exchanged before Jack watches him disappear inside. He makes a mental note to ask Alex about his family life some time; he’s curious to know what goes on in that middle-class suburban house. He can’t fathom Alex’s family being too bad, but if the younger boy refused a discussion about it, there must be something. Besides, if he claimed he needed to be more inebriated to talk about it, Jack’s more than willing to get drunk or high with him again. He’s sure it’d be fun to get _actually_ drunk with Alex — he can already imagine the pink flushed cheeks and the bubbly laughter and the constant grin.

Maybe he’ll make that his next goal.

~~~

**Sunshine Boy**

_Hi, folks. Welcome back to Ground Control. If you’re a first time listener, thanks for chiming in — we’re grateful to have you. I’m your host, Sunshine Boy. For anyone who’d like to call in, our number is (410) 555-FINE. Let’s listen to some music before we take callers. Here’s Rocket Man by our dearest Elton John._

_I hope we’re all doing well tonight. Who’s calling in? Caller one, you’re live._

**Falcon**

_Hi Sunshine, Falcon here. Valentine’s Day is coming up, do you have a hot date?_

**Sunshine Boy**

_[laughter] Oh, lord. Uh, no, Falcon, I don’t._

**Falcon**

_What about a mediocre date?_

**Sunshine Boy**

_[laughter] No date at all. Although I’d like to think that if I did have a date, I’d find them hot — on principle alone. Do you have a hot date?_

**Falcon**

_So kind of you to ask! I’ll be taking my wife for a nice dinner and we’ll share a bottle of expensive wine. We might even treat ourselves to a little dessert, if you know-_

**Sunshine Boy**

_Whoa there, okay, let’s keep it PG! Glad to hear you and your wife are doing well, Falcon, and I hope you have a wonderful Valentine’s Day. Next caller, you’re live._

**Adult Male**

_Hi, Sunshine. I haven’t called in in a long, long time. Flyzik here._

**Sunshine Boy**

_No way, it can’t be. Flyzik, we haven’t heard from you in, what, over a year now? Where have you been, my Disney devotee?_

**Flyzik**

_Well, I’ve been getting treatment for my insomnia. Maybe you remember that it used to be pretty bad for me, and it kept getting worse and worse until I passed out a few times. I started seeing a doctor after that and I was diagnosed with thyroid cancer, so the past year I’ve spent in treatment and recovery. I’ve been listening in every week, but I haven’t had the energy to call in until now, so I wanted to tell everyone that I’m officially 100% cancer free._

**Sunshine Boy**

_Oh my god, Flyzik. I am so glad to hear that you’re in a promising recovery, that is incredible news. Thyroid cancer, though, jeez. I’m so glad to hear that you’re going to be okay, and it means so much that you continued to listen to the show. I’m curious, and I hope you don’t mind my asking, but how is your insomnia now?_

**Flyzik**

_I’m actually doing a lot better. I can fall asleep by eleven at the earliest now; I used to fall asleep at 3am on a good night, if I slept at all, so I’ve come a long way. I can always stay up long enough to listen to the show, though. I wanted to say thank you for that meditative exercise you did a few weeks ago, with the paper moon and the forest world — I slept so well after that. You do have a gift, Sunshine._

**Sunshine Boy**

_Wow. You have no idea how much it means to hear that from you. Maybe we’ll do another in the future, if anyone else in interested. Flyzik, listen, I am so glad you called in again; we’ve missed you so much here. I hope to hear your voice back again soon; we have so much to catch up on._

**Flyzik**

_It was nice to talk to you too, Sunshine. I’ll call again soon. Goodnight._

**Sunshine Boy**

_Goodnight, Flyzik. Listeners, let’s take a little break here and focus on our breathing — I know my heart sure is racing after hearing Flyzik’s incredible news. Here’s Red Eye by Vance Joy._

_Next caller, you’re on._

**Boy Exotic**

_Sunshine, it’s Boy Exotic here._

**Sunshine Boy**

_Boy Exotic, how nice to hear from you. What’s got you calling in tonight?_

**Boy Exotic**

_I was wondering when and how you got so into music, and where you find the music that you play. I’ve never heard you play the same song twice._

**Sunshine Boy**

_Good question. Um… music has always been a huge part of my life, ever since I was a kid. I was raised on rock ’n roll and pop punk, which I believe we’ve discussed on the show before. When I was about thirteen, I started making my own mixtape cassettes and I would spend hours in record stores looking at music I wanted to buy. I got more serious about it after I lost someone very close to me, and I really lost myself in the comfort that music provided during that time of my life. I would lock myself in my room, create mixtape after mixtape, write songs, play guitar, sing… I made insomnia mixtape after insomnia mixtape, which is most of what I play on the show. I still make them to this day, whenever I find enough new songs to develop a show’s worth of music._

**Boy Exotic**

_Would you ever consider playing your own songs on the show?_

**Sunshine Boy**

_[shy laughter] Ah… it’s possible. Although my recording equipment is hardly up to the standards of a studio, so the quality would be much lower. I would also likely keep it a secret if I did play any of my own writing._

**Boy Exotic**

_I think it’d be great to listen to some of your songs._

**Sunshine Boy**

_In another timeline, Boy Exotic, I’m a famous musician — that’s the timeline in which you’ll be listening to my music. Let’s take another caller._

_~~~_

March comes in with warmer weather and sunshine. Jack feels happier with the brighter, warmer days; he’s always loved the sunshine. March also means that the last week of the month is Spring Break, and that means Zack is coming to visit him for the first time. He’s ecstatic about the idea of seeing his best friend for the first time since August, almost seven months ago. He’s already thinking about what they’re going to do together — he’ll show him the good food in the area, take him to a party or two, play video games with him until two in the morning. He considers showing him Alex’s show, then decides against it on the principle that he’d rather not die at Alex’s hand.

Zack shows up on Sunday. He’s only staying for a few nights, just until Wednesday afternoon, but Jack is just glad that he’s coming at all. Somehow he’s even more buff than the last time Jack saw him and his hug is even stronger, grin even brighter, and Jack hasn’t been so happy to see someone in months. “Dude, rural Maryland is so weird,” Zack tells him, and Jack laughs.

“You have no idea.”

“Don’t you miss the city?”

“Literally every day, man.”

Jack has missed his best friend. They spend Sunday evening with movies and video games and food, catching up on everything they’ve missed about each other’s lives from the past seven months. Zack talks about the girls he’s taken on dates and how every one of them has gone poorly, how his favorite skate park is being overrun with scrawny, rude, thirteen year olds, how his mom says he spends too much time working out. Jack talks about John and the other baseball guys and how their friendship is awkward and strange still, about his Christmas with his family, about his mom’s constant disappointment in anything that he does. Zack doesn’t ask about Alex, but Jack knows it’ll come up eventually. 

They go to a party on Monday night. Someone’s parents are out of town and Jack is invited by the baseball guys, so he brings Zack along so they can get drunk. Jack loses track of how much he’d had to drink after an hour and Zack is hitting up a girl that Jack doesn’t know, so he nudges him quickly and lets him know that he’s going outside for some air. He’s definitely not going to cock-block his best friend at a party while he’s on vacation — if anything, he’ll encourage it. 

He grabs some water and finds an adirondack chair in the backyard that he sits in, enjoying the cool spring air and the fact that it’s Spring Break and that his best friend is here. The sky spins above him from the alcohol and he closes his eyes, tries to lean into the sway that takes over his body. He has no idea what time it is, how long they’ve been here, but he’s glad that he’s out here in the fresh air with a cold water bottle. He’s daydreaming about where to take Zack for breakfast in the morning when the chair next to him creaks and he opens his eyes, glances over to find Alex sitting beside him with a joint. 

“Whoa, hi,” Jack says, and he can feel himself grinning. “I didn’t know you were here.”

“Aren’t I always at parties?"

“I guess.”

His eyesight is off but Alex looks a little different in a way that Jack can’t place. He stares at him for a minute, trying to decipher in his drunk mind what’s off about the younger boy, and it takes a few minutes but finally he narrows his eyes and asks, “Are you drunk?” and Alex breaks out in laughter, which is confirmation enough.

“So drunk.”

“ _Really_? I thought you didn’t like drinking.”

“Alcohol is disgusting, Jack. I don’t get the appeal. But being drunk is okay. Being high is better.”

“But you’re drunk right now.”

“Definitely drunk. I mean, also high. But drunk for sure, I think. I dunno. It took me a really long time to figure out how to get down the steps to this stupid chair and now the whole backyard is spinning so I’m gonna guess that’s not the weed.”

Jack laughs and Alex laughs with him as he takes a hit, carefree and easy, and Jack’s pretty sure Alex is easily amused when he’s drunk if he’s laughing so much already. He never laughs over silly things when he’s sober — he’s a fairly serious person unless something’s genuinely funny to him. “How do you find out about these parties if I’m the only person from school who you talk to?”

“I have my ways. Tay told me about this one.”

“Ah, Tay who you’re not dating.”

“Yep. Tay who I’m not dating.”

“And did you come here with Tay who you’re not dating?”

Alex snorts and laughs again, shaking his head. “No, I walked here. I’m hardly the type to come with someone to a party. Then I have to wait on them before I want to leave. Which, actually, is right now. Let’s go on a walk.”

“I can’t,” Jack tells him, even though he’d love to go on another late night drunken walk with this boy. Alex looks at him, those sweet brown eyes watching him and waiting for a reason. “Zack is here. My best friend. I gotta wait for him to finish hooking up with whoever he’s hooking up with.”

Alex laughs, but it feels a little sharp this time, less humorous and more bitter. “My case in point. I’m gonna… stumble home, most likely. I’ll see you later.”

“Well — wait! Can’t you at least sit here and hang out with me until you’re a little more sober? Zack’s probably hooking up with that girl right now and I don’t want to sit out here alone.”

“Only because I’m not sure I can stand up,” Alex grumbles, and he tucks his feet beside him in the chair and closes his eyes. “I might fall asleep here, actually. It’d be nice to spend the night outside. Like free camping.”

“Whoa, the insomniac is tired?”

“The insomniac is fucking drunk, actually. Doesn’t alcohol make you tired?”

“Totally.”

Jack hands Alex the bottle of water that he has — it’s half empty but Alex will probably benefit from it more than him. The younger boy takes it without question, takes a hit off the joint and blows out the smoke and swallows down the water. He hands the joint out to Jack, who carefully plucks it from those long, slender fingers and inhales the smoke slowly. It’s quiet between them, the only noise being the music from the party echoing in the distance and the slight crackle of the water bottle as Alex drinks from it. 

“Why’s Zack in town?” Alex finally asks, opening his eyes, but he has to blink a few times before he seems to actually focus in on Jack. 

“Spring Break,” Jack states, as if it’s obvious. “I haven’t seen him since I moved and he wanted me to show him Maryland. Not that there’s much to do in suburbia. And Baltimore is fucking crazy, isn’t it?”

“Just a lot of homeless and drug addicts. There’s a couple cool spots, I guess, but nothing terribly special. Pretty small city.”

“Yeah. Well. We’re just hanging out, I guess. Video games and food and getting drunk. It’s cool. I missed him a lot.”

“Still best friends even with some distance, huh?”

“Yeah, definitely.”

“And why aren’t you trying to hook up with anyone tonight?”

Jack shrugs, hears the crinkle of the water bottle after as Alex drinks. “Not in the mood, I guess. I’m too drunk to be able to appreciate it. And most of the girls here are too drunk for me to feel okay doing it. And it’s a nice night out and I’m happy to sit here and talk with you while Zack gets laid. Two friends in one night. Haven’t had that since Providence.”

“This water tastes like shit,” he hears Alex mumble, probably to himself, and then there’s another crinkle. “Fucking Arrowhead. What did you say?”

“Never mind,” Jack laughs. “I’m gonna go get you some more water.”

So he makes his way back to the house, focusing intently on every step he takes so he doesn’t fall over. There’s a case of water on the ground by the back door so he grabs four bottles, bundles them up in his arms too tight because he’s worried about dropping them. As he comes back out to where Alex is sitting, he slows down, takes his time approaching so he can admire Alex from behind. The boy is the epitome of a thunderstorm — all dark colors in his leather jacket and his ripped jeans and his messy hair. A boy who loves cassettes over the latest MP3s and CDs and who uses Wikipedia as an idea generator for what he wants to learn about next. So pretty when he smokes but he embodies a destructive undertone to every behavior; a neat contradiction to himself in everything he does. Jack wonders what goes on in that brain.

“Here,” he says, handing Alex a new water bottle. “You gotta drink more water.”

“This water is shitty.”

“I know. But otherwise you’re gonna have a killer hangover tomorrow.”

“Isn’t smoking supposed to prevent a hangover?”

“Dude, I don’t know. Probably not when you’ve had this much to drink. What exactly did you drink?”

“I dunno. Definitely something with vodka, maybe.”

“Definitely maybe. Gotcha.”

Jack doesn’t feel so drunk anymore. He’s a little more with it, and the weed hasn’t hit from the two puffs he took off the joint but maybe it’s making him feel a bit more sober. The water helps ground him as well, despite how shitty it is, and he’s thinking that within an hour or two, he’ll be sober enough to drive back home with Zack. If Alex sticks around, he could probably give him a ride as well. The younger boy might be passed out in the next twenty minutes, though, if his current state is anything to go off of — he’s curled up in the chair with the water bottle hugged to his chest and his eyes closed, steady breathing and cheeks flushed pink from the alcohol. He doesn’t seem quite like a thunderstorm right now, more like an ocean wave, but Jack isn’t any less intimidated by him like this. 

He has no idea how long they sit out there. The only reason he knows Alex is awake is because he keeps sipping at the water and shifting his position in the chair. They don’t talk; Jack is pretty sure Alex is way too lost in his own thoughts to hold a conversation, but sitting in the fresh air drinking water in his company has Jack feeling virtually sober after a while. He’s not sure how that’ll hold up once he has to get up and walk, but he’s sure he’ll be able to drive home sooner rather than later. He wonders how Zack is doing with the girl he’d found, wonders if maybe he’s going to have sex with her, lose his virginity at a party in a different town on Spring Break. Every movie teenager’s dream.

After what feels like an hour or so, Zack comes out into the yard looking energetic and excited, practically bouncing on his toes. “Dude, have you been out here all night?” he asks incredulously, clapping a hand on Jack’s shoulder, and Jack laughs.

“Almost, yeah.”

“Bro, there’s a whole ass party, you know that, right?”

“I needed some air, and then Alex came out here and I just didn’t really consider going back inside, I guess. But hey, I’m basically sober, so I can drive us home.”

“Oh, awesome. Cool. I’m definitely not sober. I just took a shot with that girl.”

“Yeah? How’d it go with her?”

“I think you live in the coolest town in the fucking world, Jack.”

Jack laughs again, glances over at Alex, whose eyes are open but lidded, like he’s still sleepy and drunk, and he sips quietly at his water. “You awake?” Jack asks, even though he knows he is, and Alex nods. “Want me to drive you home?”

“I can walk,” Alex insists, and Jack scoffs.

“You’re, like, half asleep in the chair. Come on. I’ll drive you home.”

Zack grabs a few water bottles as Jack waits for Alex to get out of the chair. It takes him a minute, and he has to stand and blink a few times before he trusts himself to be balanced, and Jack just waits patiently and doesn’t try to touch him, even though he’d like to. “Water,” Jack reminds, and Alex rolls his eyes with a dismissive wave of his hand, but he drinks some more water anyway and grabs the empty bottles. “You can leave them, y’know, whoever’s hosting the party will clean up tomorrow.”

“I am not an asshole party guest,” Alex says pointedly. “And I don’t leave plastic to just sit on the earth. It’s bad for her.”

“Her? Who’s her?”

“The earth, you fucking imbecile.”

Jack laughs. Alex is clearly not happy about having to get up from his spot in the chair, a scowl settled on his features as he sips at his water. Zack comes back out with some full bottles and they set off back through the sea of people in the house. Alex finds the recycling bin to put the empty bottles in as Zack kisses his one-night-stand goodbye, and finally, Jack manages to wrangle both of them into his car, Zack in the passenger seat and Alex in the back. “If either of you throws up, I will never forgive you,” he warns, and Zack laughs as Alex scoffs.

“I have a lot of self control, thank you,” Alex complains bitterly, and Jack doesn’t bother entertaining that because Alex has never been this drunk before.

The party is on the outskirts of town, so Alex’s house is at least a fifteen minute drive. Jack drives carefully, mindful of his speed so he doesn’t get pulled over with two drunk underage passengers. It’s quiet between the three of them for a few minutes as they pass under the street lights and through green stop lights, slow turns around corners to avoid jostling the two who are still drunk. The silence is peaceful, a nice way to wind down from a busy night, and Jack wonders when he started enjoying quiet nights so much.

And then suddenly Alex is singing from the backseat — soft and gentle and quiet, very obviously just singing to himself, as if he’s forgotten that the other two are present. Zack glances at Jack, a silent question as to whether they should acknowledge it, and Jack just minutely shakes his head. He’s never heard Alex sing before but he’s already hooked on it, the way his lips form around the words, melodic and even and _good_. He’s a good singer. Jack feels like he’s in a dream, surrounded by this boy’s voice, and suddenly he realizes that his heart is racing.

“ _… boy, you’re such a dream… if you can believe? ay, boy you’re such a dream to me… excuse me, um, i love you…_ ”

~~~

“So.”

“So?”

“Dude, I didn’t come all this way to _not_ get the gossip on your love life.”

“There isn’t a love life.”

“ _Jack_. I didn’t realize it last night but that was Alex, right? The Alex who’s got your sexuality all in a tizzy?”

Jack shoots Zack a halfhearted glare as he rounds a corner in their game of Mario Kart. “Okay, well, for one, my sexuality is not in a _tizzy_. Although, yes, that was Alex. The same Alex who I’ve mentioned before. And there’s certainly not a love life there.”

“Well, are you still… confused? Are there any updates?”

Jack sighs, runs his hand through his hair as he crosses the finish line in second. Zack is still way behind in seventh, so he’s got time. “We talked a little about it a while ago. A couple weeks ago. We got high and I was asking about his love life and his sexuality, and he’s just so carefree and indifferent towards all the social standards for men, you know? He’s never even kissed someone but it’s not on his radar. He couldn’t care less about being in a relationship or having sex. He said he’d value an intellectual, emotionally intimate love instead of anything sexual or physical. And he just doesn’t _get_ the anxiety around potentially being bi, you know? He’s super into all this existential philosophy, so nothing _matters_ to him. Being gay wouldn’t be a big deal for him. It’s like he doesn’t see sexuality as a concrete thing to label; it’s like it’s fluid for him. It is what it is; he loves who he loves. It’s that simple for him and he didn’t understand why I was fighting it in myself.”

“Well… are you still?”

“I don’t know, dude. I don’t even know if I’m interested in guys at all, let alone Alex. I mean, I’m more into him than I’ve ever been with another guy, but I’ve _never_ been into another guy, so that doesn’t mean much, right? And besides, he stresses me out. I can’t even just kiss him to see if I’d like it, y’know, cause he hasn’t kissed anyone and he couldn’t care less about it. And I don’t want to misread our friendship like that and fuck it up.”

Zack finally crosses the finish line with an annoyed groan before he sets the controller down. “You know, I didn’t understand what you meant when you told me about him. When you said that there was just something about him that drew you in and how you couldn’t stop thinking about him but you didn’t know why. I had no idea what that meant, honestly. But last night, hearing him sing in the car… I mean, maybe I was just drunk, or maybe I’m fucking crazy, or maybe it was the fact that it was nighttime and we were driving and it was quiet, but it was like some kind of otherworldly experience. His presence and his voice and _that_ song, without any of the instruments or the backing vocals, like… I got it. I know what you mean now. We could have driven for hours and I probably wouldn’t have noticed. It was like time stopped.”

“Yes! That’s how it feels all the fucking time, Zack, do you see why I’m so caught up? It’s just an _energy_ thing! I swear he’s not real sometimes. I’m, like, afraid to touch him sometimes in case I find out that it’s all an illusion. A hallucination. Part of me wants to kiss him just to make sure he’s real.”

“I mean, if he’s so apathetic about his sexuality, why don’t you just tell him that you’re maybe interested in him? He wouldn’t react poorly, would he?”

“I mean, I don’t think he’d actually push me away as a friend, but… well, maybe he would. He hasn’t really had any friends before; the whole school thinks he’s fucking weird because of some stupid elementary school nickname. It’s a long story. I’m his only friend, though. I don’t want to fuck up the one friendship he has because I had to go catch feelings.”

“Well… yeah. I guess that makes sense. I get what you mean now, though. There’s definitely something about him.”

“Totally. I’m glad I’m not crazy.”

~~~

Jack misses Ground Control on Tuesday due to Zack’s presence, which means that he doesn’t get a chance to see Alex or hear the show until the following Tuesday, over a week since the party. Over a week and he still hasn’t stopped thinking about the boy’s voice, so quietly singing Ariana Grande from the backseat, singing a pop song in such a mystic, ethereal manner that it changed the whole meaning. He wonders if Alex even remembers doing that, if he remembers anything from that night. Jack’s dying to know how he felt the next day and what he thinks about drinking now, but he’ll have to wait until Alex decides to hang out with him again.

**Sunshine Boy**

_All right, folks, I’m glad to be here connecting with you in the signal void. We’re coming into April with some nice weather, aren’t we? Maybe this year we won’t get the slew of rainstorms that often grace this part of the country. How’s everyone doing tonight? Caller one, you’re live._

**Boy Exotic**

_Hi Sunshine, Boy Exotic here. I wasn’t able to listen last week; how was the show?_

**Sunshine Boy**

_[laughter] Hi, Boy Exotic. Ah… last week’s show was all right, I think, though I was feeling a bit under the weather and fell asleep during one of the songs. Not one of my finest moments on the show._

**Boy Exotic**

_[laughter] Oh, wow. I hope you’re feeling better this week. I didn’t call in for any specific reason — just wanted to see how the show was last week. You can take another caller._

**Sunshine Boy**

_All right, you got it. Thanks for calling in, Boy Exotic. Next caller, you’re live._

**Starlit**

_Hello, Sunshine._

**Sunshine Boy**

_Oh, man. Judging from the honey-timbre that warms my blood, we’ve got Starlit on the line. How are you doing?_

**Starlit**

_I’m doing well, baby. Sunshine, I had a question for you, but it’s a bit personal._

**Sunshine Boy**

_Well, I can’t guarantee I’ll answer, but I’m willing to give it a shot. What’s your question?_

**Starlit**

_You’ve mentioned that you lost a very close family member a while back, and that it triggered a period of major depression. What was that experience like? I’m under the impression that you’re on the younger end of this lifetime, so what was it like to experience grief like that so early in life?_

**Sunshine Boy**

_Honestly, that’s a difficult question, Starlit. Grief is experienced differently for everyone, of course. You’re right; I am in the younger years of this lifetime, and I wasn’t mentally or emotionally prepared to deal with grief when I lost this person. The first few months I spent… hm. I’m not sure there’s a family-friend term for this. Um… oh! I had a close relationship with someone named Mary Jane, if we’re all on board here. Pro tip for anyone dealing with grief — Mary Jane was not an effective therapist, by any means. But, uh, I… ‘met’ with MJ every day, a few times a day, for a few months. I could barely eat, barely sleep, I shut out everyone around me, I dropped everything that had meant something to me as some point, and then finally I started getting into education a little more. I saw some random article about the multiverse theory and the parallel universe theory, which are deeply rooted in some of the language I use on this show, and once I started learning more about it, I realized that my meetings with Mary Jane were interrupting my understanding of cosmology._

_So I threw all my energy into learning about the things that interested me instead. I read as much Hawking as I could manage to fit in my brain, I read Oliver Sacks, I read Freud. I listened to so much music and created mixtape after mixtape; I have milk crates filled with cassettes that I made. I still make them. I wrote my own music, recorded my own songs, bought records and cassettes and CDs, bought a guitar and taught myself to play… I did just about anything to keep the tragedy off of my mind. Those months that I spent on no sleep, no food, no hobbies, just meetings with Mary Jane and a void in my stomach, had ground me down to a pulp, honestly. I felt like I had eroded my personality and my body and my mind down to a grain of sand at best. And it was obviously the lowest point in my life so far, going through that, but I am so grateful for where it got me. Everything about my personality now was born out of that experience. At that point of being a grain of sand, I could see everything that I needed to fix — like a fluorescent light flicked on, and everything that’d been in a shadow was lit. I saw the planes of the universe that came together to build my one single individual being. I saw the timelines from other universes existing around me and within me. I saw all the other potentials for my life in other worlds and it centralized me in this life, in this timeline. I started Ground Control as an attempt to remind myself of those things every week, as a forced reason to rediscover my love for these philosophies in the real world so I wouldn’t fall off the wagon again. I learned more about myself, my passions, and my resiliency than I ever thought I would know, and I’m still learning. I’m sorry that this has been the longest answer in the world, wow — but that’s the short version of how I dealt with grief for the first time. I hope that answered your question?_

**Starlit**

_Sunshine, I am just speechless. I have never heard of someone building so much out of a situation where they lost everything. And let me tell you, honey, this show has been a blessing for me. I really don’t know where I’d be without your pretty little voice across the line every Tuesday. You do so much for us and you probably don’t even know. What I would give to meet you and take care of you for once. Just for a night._

**Sunshine Boy**

_[soft laughter] Starlit, just having you listen in is more than enough for me. Although I really would give anything to meet all of you. Every listener and caller has aided me through these few years in so many different ways. I could never express my gratitude._

**Starlit**

_I hope one day we’ll meet, baby. In one timeline or another._

**Sunshine Boy**

_I’m sure we will. One way or another. Let’s take a moment to recover here and listen to Shrike by Hozier._

_All right. I hope we’re all a little calmer. Caller three, you’re on._

**Chip Skylark**

_Hi Sunshine, Chip here. I have a question regarding your grief recovery, if it’s okay. Didn’t you have family to help you through it? Or a girlfriend or a best friend?_

**Sunshine Boy**

_Well… my close family and I have an interesting relationship. Feelings have never really been a topic of discussion, so it was easier for me to push them away and deal with it without their opinions of how I should be handling it. Not that my methods were any healthier, but at least I could ignore their rhetorics of ‘no emotion.’ And the rest of my family did grieve, of course, but it was more along the lines of ‘forget it happened and move on’ rather than acceptance and growth. There was a lot of stifled emotion and tense atmosphere because of that, so I chose to recover on my own. As for a best friend, I didn’t have one at the time. The person I lost was the closest I had to one. And I’ve never had a girlfriend — or a romantic relationship of any kind — so that was out of the question as well._

**Chip Skylark**

_Okay, follow-up question that’s a little off the topic of your grief. You never specify gender when you talk about relationships; are you open to exploring romantic or sexual relationships beyond women?_

**Sunshine Boy**

_[laughter] Funny you ask, Chip, I recently had a conversation about this with a friend. I’m open to anything, really. I think sexuality and romance interest are entirely fluid in any one individual, so whoever I happen to fall for is who I fall for, and I don’t really question that. I’m also not terribly concerned with being in a relationship, though, so I don’t seek out any kind of intimacy with anyone._

**Chip Skylark**

_So you’re totally open to being with another man?_

**Sunshine Boy**

_Yeah, sure. Emotional intimacy means more to me than sexual intimacy, so as long as I have an emotional connection with someone, the physical interest follows. Gender has never been relevant to me when it comes to dating._

**Chip Skylark**

_Well, Sunshine, tell me this… is there anyone you’re interested in? Any crush as of late?_

**Sunshine Boy**

_[laughter] Ah, Chip. So nosy, huh? I think it’s hard for me to define a crush right now. I’ve never really met anyone truly worthy of my time and energy, so usually any attraction I feel towards someone is short-lived. So… [shy laugh] I guess I don’t really know right now. Ask me again in a few months._

**Chip Skylark**

_But there’s a possibility? Sunshine Boy might finally get the kind romance he deserves?_

**Sunshine Boy**

_Well, we can’t get our hopes up. And, again, not even a real crush yet. No need to give a label to something that might not be there._

_~~~_

Alex shows up at Jack’s house on Saturday night with a bottle of wine.

Jack stares at him after he’s slipped out the front door and met Alex beneath his bedroom window, their usual meeting place when Alex shows up out of the blue wanting to hang out. The younger boy stares right back at him, confused and curious as to why Jack’s so baffled by this, but Jack has no idea why Alex is outside with a full bottle of wine.

“Well, I can’t drink the whole bottle by myself,” is Alex’s reasoning when Jack voices his own confusion. “I’d be dead.”

“Do you even _like_ wine?”

“Guess we’ll find out. Come on.”

“Where?”

“My house.”

“We’re going to go get wine drunk at your house? With your family there?”

“My family doesn’t give a shit what I do.”

“I won’t be able to drive home if we drink that.”

“Just stay as long as it takes. Doesn’t matter. Do you want to drink this with me or not?”

“Well — yes-,”

“Okay, then come on.”

Fifteen minutes later, Jack finds himself on Alex’s floor. The younger boy is clearly seeking out a very specific cassette in his many crates full of them, because he’s getting increasingly annoyed with having not found it. There’s not necessarily an organization method to the crates — or maybe there is and Jack just doesn’t know — so he’s not surprised that Alex can’t find what he’s looking for. Jack examines the wine as Alex searches; it’s a rosé, 13.5% alcohol. Jack doesn’t know what any of the other identifiers are, and he’s guessing that Alex isn’t a wine connoisseur either, so he’s pretty sure the goal here is just to get drunk and hang out.

“Fucking finally,” Alex mutters to himself as he grabs the cassette he’s been looking for. Jack doesn’t get a chance to see what it’s called before Alex slips it into the player, and then he’s taking the wine from Jack’s hands and grabbing the corker from the edge of his desk. “Do you know anything about wine?”

“Not a thing. Red wine is disgusting and white wine is sour, that’s about all I know.”

“Well, this is rosé. Guess we’ll see."

“Where did you get this?”

“My parents have a wine collection.”

Jack falters. “Well — is it okay for us to drink this? I don’t want to steal your family’s alcohol.”

Alex gives him a tired look as he aligns the corker around the rim. “My family doesn’t care. We smoked up here that time and no one cared, remember? Weed is a lot less inconspicuous than alcohol, so we’re in the clear. Besides, this isn’t even an expensive wine.”

Jack figures he won’t argue anymore. He doesn’t know Alex’s family at all, so he’ll trust Alex on this one. The younger boy works on twisting the corker into the cork and Jack can’t help but stare at his arms as he does it, the subtle flex of his biceps and the tension in his forearms as he cranks it, and Jack finds himself wishing he could reach out and touch the muscle of his upper arm. It takes a minute, but finally there’s a soft _pop!_ sound as the cork comes free and Alex smiles in satisfaction at his work, setting the corker and the cork back up on his desk before handing the bottle over the Jack.

“Water?” Jack requests as he takes the bottle, and Alex hums in approval and leans past him to open the bottom drawer of his desk, pulls out two plastic water bottles. Jack indulges in that sweet nutmeg aroma, ignoring that his heart races at the smell of it and the close proximity of the younger boy. 

He takes a swig. It’s sweeter than wine he’s had in the past, a subtle taste of strawberry and raspberry, but he halfway likes it. It’s acidic and it burns but it’s infinitely better than beer, and he’s able to swallow it down fairly easily as he hands it back to Alex, who follows suit and swings the bottle back. The younger boy cringes a little as he swallows, scrunched up nose as he eyes the bottle, and then he says, “That’s sweet,” and Jack laughs and nods.

“Way sweeter than I thought it’d be.”

“Not bad, actually.”

“Not at all. So why exactly are you trying to get wine drunk with me? Did you like being drunk over Spring Break?”

Alex shrugs, his water bottle crinkling as he twists it open. “It was fine, I guess. The hangover wasn’t fun. I don’t want to get as drunk as I did then, but I don’t want to be sober and I don’t want to be high, so wine drunk it is. I can’t drink a whole bottle by myself, so obviously I had to recruit you.”

“Do you even remember anything about that night?”

Alex takes another swig before he hands the bottle back, and his cheeks are flushed a soft pink color that makes Jack want to cup his face and rub his thumb over those high cheekbones. “Some of it, yeah. I remember sitting in the backyard with you, but I’m pretty sure I’m missing a good portion of that. I sort of remember meeting Zack, but it definitely wasn’t a memorable encounter. Why? Did something happen?”

Jack shakes his head. “Nah. You were just mad at me when I made you get up so I could drive you home. You called me a ‘fucking imbecile’ because I didn’t know that you were referring to the earth when you referenced a vague ‘her.’ And then insisted that you had too much self control to throw up in my car.”

“Oh, god, did I throw up in your car?”

“No. But I told you that you better not, and you made some snarky remark about having self control. You were pretty quiet for most of the night, though.”

“Well, for the record, the earth is a she. You should have known that.”

“Uh-huh.”

Alex grins at him. The Weeknd is playing from the cassette tape, a song that Jack knows but wouldn’t be able to name, and he’s sort of curious as to why this cassette tape was so imperative for Alex to obtain to get drunk with, but he knows he’s not going to remember to actively listen to the songs and try to figure it out. He’s already feeling the wine and they’re not quite to the halfway point in the bottle. 

“How was your hangover last week?” Jack asks, and Alex rolls his eyes with a swig.

“Well, it triggered a migraine, so. Not good.”

“A migraine? A headache?”

“Dude, a migraine is so much worse than a headache. I threw up and couldn’t leave bed and took a nap with sunglasses on for most of the afternoon. I thought I was gonna have to cancel the show, but I was mostly better by midnight. It was just embarrassing to fall asleep during one of the songs.”

“So you got a crippling migraine from drinking and now you’re drinking again.”

“Your point?”

“Well — never mind. Are you gonna be a silent drunk tonight too?”

Alex laughs, rolling his eyes again before he takes another swig. “No clue. We’ll see. Besides, it wouldn’t be silent. We have music. And you could talk, y’know. I’m not just going to ignore everything you say for the sake of silence.”

“Thank god. I hate silence.”

They finish the bottle within an hour. Jack is way drunker than he thought he’d be, but he’s never been wine drunk before either. He sort of feels like he’s floating, almost like he’s crossed, but without the anxiety of a high mixed with a hard-liquor drunk. It’s a peaceful drunk this time, has him feeling warm and happy and easily amused, and he’s pretty sure Alex is in the same boat because the younger boy looks more relaxed and loose than Jack’s ever seen him. He’s stretched out on the floor with a pillow under his head, examining his fingers intently with a soft smile teasing at those plump lips, and Jack’s curious to know what he’s so transfixed by. _Maybe he’s a hand model,_ he thinks to himself. That would make sense — with those nice long fingers and neat nails and the subtle veins that stretch up the backs of his hands to his forearms. That would explain his aloof personality, too; celebrities can’t just make any friend they want without risking the exposure of their rich life. Maybe that’s why Alex is so wary of calling him a friend, because he hasn’t figure out how to tell him about his double life.

Jack zones back into reality at the sound of Alex’s laughter, and he looks down at the younger boy, who’s _genuinely_ laughing, that sweet grin highlighting the dimples on his cheeks and amused tears in his eyes. “What’s so funny?” he asks, blinking a few times, and Alex grins up at him as he tries to calm himself.

“A _hand_ model?”

Jack gawks. “Oh my god, you _are_ a mind reader.”

“Hardly, you just talked for, like, five minutes about me being a hand model and how that explains everything you’ve ever wondered about me.”

“I said that out loud?”

“Sure did,” Alex promises, and Jack can’t even be embarrassed about that because he’s too drunk, so instead he starts laughing too. “You really don’t trust that I’m just another seventeen year old kid, do you?”

“Hell no,” Jack laughs. “You’re _way_ too abnormal to be normal.”

“I just don’t know if that was redundant enough; can you try again?”

“Oh, shut _up_ , I’m literally _drunk_.”

Alex grins at him again before he sits up, propping himself up on his palms and blinking a few times. “Whoa. Okay. I’m drunk too. Let’s go get a snack.”

“You eat?!”

“I literally hate you.”

“What about your family?”

Alex rolls his eyes and waves a dismissive hand. “Just be semi-quiet. They probably won’t even notice.”

So they make the trek downstairs. Jack’s vision is blurry and he’s guessing Alex’s is too because the younger boy grips the handrail of the stairs as they go down, walks a little slower as he leads Jack to the kitchen. Jack can distantly hear the sound of the TV from the other room and he wonders if Alex’s parents even know he has someone over, let alone that they’re drunk as fuck off stolen wine right now. Alex opens the fridge as he mumbles, “Glasses are over there, get us some more water,” and Jack definitely doesn’t see where he points but he opens the right cupboard nonetheless. 

Jack doesn’t even know what Alex has grabbed for them to eat, but they make it back upstairs without being addressed by Alex’s parents. They settle back on the floor and Alex lays out everything he grabbed — cheese and crackers, grapes, potato chips, and a little Chinese takeout box with a pair of chopsticks. “Didn’t you eat dinner?” Jack asks with a laugh, and Alex shrugs.

“I’m hungry.”

“You better share that Chinese food.”

Alex scowls, holding the box protectively against his chest, but Jack knows he’ll share. The cassette tape has run its course and Alex sets about finding a new one, squinting at each title and blinking repeatedly with each one. Jack leans against the side of the bed with the grapes, popping one into his mouth and thoroughly appreciating the pop of juice on his tongue. It tastes better while he’s drunk; he’s usually not big on grapes, but the juice is refreshing and sweet and he’s pretty sure that makes sense, with grapes and wine pairing well.

“Green Day is going to be a fucking staple in society,” Alex mumbles to himself as he puts a cassette in the player and grabs the Chinese food. “I know it. Fifteen years from now, people are still going to be selling out their concerts. No way will they go out of style.”

“You think?”

“ _Totally_. Dookie? American Idiot? Absolutely timeless. Albums like that don’t go out of style. Same with Blink. They’re gonna be good forever. Fuck, a concert with Green Day, Blink, Wheezer, and… Fall Out Boy? I’m manifesting it right now. I can die happy after that.”

“That would be insane,” Jack agrees, pushing another grape in his mouth. “Whoa. Imagine if that actually happened.”

“Imagine getting high in the crowd of that concert. Being on cloud nine for the whole duration of it. God. What I would fucking give to do that.”

“Thought you weren’t an avid smoker?”

Alex smirks and points a chopstick at him. “Not an avid smoker.”

Jack raises an unimpressed eyebrow, but Alex doesn’t catch it as he works on twirling chow mien noodles around the chopsticks. It takes him a few tries because he’s drunk, and Jack distantly thinks that he’s cute when he’s frowning at his own misfortune. He watches as the younger boy furrows his brow and focuses intently on wrapping one noodle around the chopsticks, a task that takes much longer drunk than it would sober. “I don’t know why the fuck I thought I could use chopsticks while I’m drunk,” he mumbles to himself, and Jack laughs as he carefully brings the single noodle up from the container, watching it intently to make sure it doesn’t slip.

“Definitely should have gotten a fork,” Jack mentions, and Alex sends him a quick glare.

“If you talk about a fork, the chopsticks are gonna get mad and then they _really_ won’t work. So shut up and let me concentrate.”

“That’s totally how that works.”

“ _Jack._ Shut _up_.”

For some reason it feels like Alex has never said his name before. He knows he has, but he’s never actually noticed how it sounds on Alex’s tongue before. So he watches Alex focus intently as he manages to get one noodle in his mouth, and a carrot goes easier so he’s guessing that the younger boy is going to give up on the noodles altogether and opt for the chicken and the vegetables since they’re easier to grab. Jack keeps popping grapes in his mouth, smiling to himself at the burst of sweet juice on his tongue and the way Alex smirks satisfactorily as he obtains another noodle. 

Somehow they find themselves seated on the ground beneath Alex’s window, and the younger boy is still fighting with the chopsticks and the noodles but he’s staring up at the stars with big, curious eyes, like they’re telling him the most fascinating story he’s ever heard. “Give me that,” Jack insists, pulling the Chinese food and the chopsticks from his hands easily, and Alex scowls at him.

“ _Rude_.”

“What are you looking at?”

“The stars, bro.”

“ _Bro_ ,” Jack echoes, because he’s never heard Alex use any kind of _dude_ language before. But he’s drunk so he’ll forgive it. “What’s so thrilling about the stars? What do you even think about? You look at them _all_ the time and you just think and think. What do you think about?”

“You just asked the same question, like, three different ways,” Alex points out, and Jack rolls his eyes as he fights with a noodle around the chopstick. It’s a lot harder than it looks and it’s making him realize how drunk he really is. “Totally depends on the night. Right now, I’m thinking about parallel universes.”

“Isn’t that your go-to?”

“No, not necessarily. Sometimes I don’t even think about cosmology. But tonight, it’s parallel universes. Which, for the record, is not synon — synomny — no, _sy-non-eh-mous_ with multiverses.”

“Dude, you lost me when you couldn’t pronounce snynom-nymous.”

“ _You’re_ mispronouncing synonymous,” Alex argues, and Jack scoffs. “Like, there can be multiple universes, and there can be multiple parallel universes, but there’s not _only_ parallel universes when I talk about the multiverse. The multiverse contains all sorts of universes, some of which are inevitably parallel to others.”

“So what’s your favorite hypothetical parallel universe?”

Alex stares at the sky and thinks for a few minutes, and Jack fights with the noodles and almost forgets that he even asked a question when Alex finally sighs and shrugs as he grabs the grapes and pops one in his mouth. “I guess probably the one where my brother’s still kickin’ it. It’d be a universe with a different timeline, though.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, obviously in this universe, he’s already died, and that’s what was in his script, I guess. Which means that his lifetime, in this timeline, has come to an end. Potentially he’s been reborn in a different lifetime, still within this timeline, but the parallel universe that I’d like to be in would be one in a timeline where it’s him, exactly how he was here in his lifetime, and me, exactly how I am here in my lifetime. But it’d have to be a different timeline, obviously, because we’ve already lived this one out and he died young.”

“Do you think it exists? That specific universe?”

“Sure, it’s got to. It might take a billion configurations to get there, but inevitably, the particle arrangements would repeat down to the exact particle. There’s another universe where it’s repeated down to all but one particle, all but two, so on and so forth. It’d be great if I could live in a universe that was a particle combination of my life before Tom’s death and my life now. Y’know? Like, I could still have my brother, alive and well, and I could have my radio show. But I never would have created the radio show if he hadn’t died, so maybe that’s not feasible. But also anything is feasible, y’know, like if we molded timelines — but this is just one timeline for me, this is all the same single timeline, in my one single lifetime _within_ this timeline, so maybe-,”

“Alex, you lost me.”

“Let me think on that,” Alex concludes swiftly, popping another grape in his mouth. “Anyway. That’s my favorite hypothetical universe. What would be yours?”

“I can’t say I’ve thought about it,” Jack confesses, and he steals a grape. “I don’t have quite the expanse of knowledge on the multiverse theory that you do. I mean, sure, there are things I’d like to change about my life but I’m not sure I’d be able to present that in the language of a parallel universe.”

“What would you want to change?”

“Um… I’d like Zack to be around. In my vicinity still. And it’d be cool if my mom wasn’t disappointed in me all the time. And if my siblings lived closer.”

“Your mom is disappointed in you?”

“Oh, yeah.”

“About what?”

Jack shrugs. “Everything, I guess. Mostly the fact that I haven’t fallen in love with Towson yet. And that I don’t have a girlfriend.”

“Ah, so your mom wants you to get a girlfriend,” Alex muses wisely, as if he’s just solved a mystery. “That makes sense now.”

“What makes sense?”

“Why you’re so freaked out at the prospect of potentially liking guys.”

“I did not say that!”

“Um, you _definitely_ did. When we were high in your car, remember?”

“ _No_ , you accused me of being gay and I said I wasn’t and then we talked about _your_ sexuality. That was me, denying being gay because I’m _not._ Not me freaking out about potentially liking guys because that is not the case.”

Alex rolls his eyes dramatically, reaches up to the ledge of his desk and grabs his water bottle. “ _This_ sounds like you freaking out. Maybe you’re so adamantly denying it because your mom is disappointed that you don’t have a girlfriend. But you did have a girlfriend — or not a girlfriend, whatever Audrey was — and you broke up with her… why, again?”

“Okay, point taken,” Jack snarks. “Y’know, in order to figure out if I’m into guys, I have to be _into a guy_.”

“Well, if you’re stressed about it — which you obviously have been — then maybe you are into a guy. Someone who you haven’t told me about, despite your affinity for discussing our love lives.”

“I do not have an _affinity_. I just think that you need to kiss someone.”

“And I don’t need to,” Alex laughs. “There is so much more to life than romantic love and sex, haven’t you figured that out? There’s so much in my life that I’m so grateful for. There’s already so much love in my life. It’s just not the kind of love that you picture when you think about love lives.”

Jack tilts his head curiously as he sets the Chinese food to the side, grabbing his own water bottle from behind him. “Well, then, what do you mean?”

Alex shrugs, looking out the window at the stars. “Like… y’know, there’s the things that the average person pictures themselves loving. Carrying love for. It’s usually their friends, family, a romantic partner, pets, etc. And I haven’t had any of those, so I’ve had to project and carry love differently, which has made me so appreciative of my environment. Like — look at those stars,” — he points out and up at the sky — “What did it take for _those_ stars to be visible to _my_ eye? Here, in Towson, Maryland, where the city lights usually pollute out the starlight that reaches us. And somehow, on this night, in this exact moment, _I_ get to see them. Maybe they’re already dead by now and I’m seeing the last few years of their lives. I hold a space of appreciation for that, for this exact moment, here, in this timeline. In this lifetime. Where I got to see these specific stars. And — here, wait,” — he opens the window — “Feel that breeze? All that air, here to remind me that this is real. That I’m here, right now, feeling that breeze. All of this, all of this nature around us that grows and exists without permission, that I get to enjoy every day without permission, that’s… that’s crazy, you know? We’re all visitors here; Earth is going to go on well past our minuscule little lives. And she’s going to grow over us and around us and through us and one day we’ll disintegrate to be a part of her. Isn’t that love? Eroding with the one you care about most?

“And _then_ , god, don’t even get me started on _music_ , Jack. Haven’t you felt that? When you listen to a song and it just _hits_. And that feeling of love just floods over your chest and fills your lungs until your ribs feel like they could split. That vibrational energy is so healing, y’know, fuck the lyrics, fuck the guitar riffs or whatever, but the energy. Just the sound waves is enough make me fall in love. But, then again, the lyrics and the instruments are their own separate entities, and those make me fall in love too, and then _sometimes_ , you’ll find just the right song. The perfect blend of lyrics, instruments, and energy. Have you ever found that? Your perfect song? Maybe it’s just for a day. Your perfect song for one day. And the feeling that comes with that… I mean, fuck, who needs sex? Who needs to kiss when there’s so much else to love? Not to discredit people who desire those things, y’know, everyone loves differently, but why do I need to seek out a romantic, physical, _human_ relationship when I have everything I could ever need right here, at the tip of my finger? I have this whole world, the whole Earth, so selfless in allowing me access to her beauty. I have all of space, who’s shyer, Space doesn’t want me in her orbit unless I really work for it. And then there’s music, who’s such an advocate, always uniting people, fuck a language barrier. Why do I need to seek out more love?”

Jack would kiss him right now if he could. He’s in just the wrong position, though, leaning on the windowsill with his candles and looking out at the night sky. But with those words in his drunk mind, Jack would give anything to show him that he could find love in this too. In him. Instead, he just stares at him, lost in his own thoughts of how he managed to become friends with this boy. Of everyone in Towson, he builds a friendship with this ethereal, otherworldly boy who’s infinitely smarter than him, who stops him in his tracks on the daily and who rewires his whole mindset that he’s grown up with. 

“Y-You said on your radio show that you might have a crush,” he says weakly, and Alex glances at him. “I don’t remember who the caller was. But you said to ask again in a few months. So if you have a crush, don’t you want to explore that?”

Alex’s cheeks look pink in the soft light, but Jack’s not sure if he’s blushing or if it’s an alcohol flush. “I-It’s not a crush,” he dismisses, but it doesn’t sound strong enough for Jack to be convinced. “No crush. On anyone. Who would I even have a crush on?”

“My bets would have been Tay.”

“Not Tay. Not anyone.”

Jack narrows his eyes at him, and Alex looks away.

~~~

**Sunshine Boy**

_Again, that was Starlight by Jai Wolf and Mr Gabriel. How’s everyone doing? I know it’s a cold night in my pocket of the world. Lots of thoughts on the parallel universes that might be out there and what they consist of. Who might be out there. Who’s our next caller?_

**Chip Skylark**

_Hey, Sunshine, Chip here. I’ve always been curious about this, and for some reason, I never remember to ask, but obviously you play a lot of music on here and you’ve talked a lot about how music has helped you through grief. Now obviously this is an impossible question to fully answer, but what are some of your favorite songs?_

**Sunshine Boy**

_Oh, man. That is a hard question. Um… off the top of my head? R.E.M. by Ariana Grande, Friday I’m in Love by The Cure, uh… shoot. Hm. Basket Case by Green Day. Oh — you know what? I’m gonna say albums instead. That’s so much easier; I have so many favorite albums. Lorde’s Melodrama, Ariana’s sweetener, or thank u, next. Harry Style’s Fine Line. Green Day’s Dookie, blink’s Enema of the State, Fall Out Boy’s Folie à Deux… Wow. I’ll stop there. There are so many more, though — that’s a fraction of the albums I cycle through regularly._

**Chip Skylark**

_Wow. Admittedly, for being caught off guard, you had a much better answer than I was expecting. Follow-up question: what’s your favorite cassette mixtape that you’ve made? What artists are on it?_

**Sunshine Boy**

_[nervous laughter] Ah… I’ll go second favorite. I won’t give away the name of it, but it’s all about loss, so there’s Wake Me Up When September Ends by Green Day, ghostin by Ariana Grande, All at Once by Jack Johnson, Boys Don’t Cry by The Cure, Daniel by Elton John… it’s a multi-tape mixtape. Very personal to me; no one else has ever been able to listen to it._

**Chip Skylark**

_Do you think you’ll ever share it with someone?_

**Sunshine Boy**

_Maybe one day, Skylark. It would take a lot of deep love and trust before I did._

**Chip Skylark**

_And you can’t share anything about your top favorite?_

**Sunshine Boy**

_[laughter] Um… the most I can say is that it’s a style of mixtape that I’ve never made before. Totally new for me, and very vulnerable in a way that I haven’t been before. I was nervous to even make it — even though no one will ever hear it — because it meant admitting to something that I’d been avoiding._

**Chip Skylark**

_But it’s already your favorite?_

**Sunshine Boy**

_Yeah, definitely. It’s a step into something new for me. As scary as it is, the mixtape makes me really happy. It’s just for me, though. For now._

_~~~_

Jack has been in denial for some time now. 

He won’t necessarily admit to being in denial, but when he can’t trick himself any longer, it’s obvious. The signs were all there, but they were easy to ignore, easy to dismiss or justify if he looked at the context in the light that he wanted to see things in. It was just so _easy_ for him to shift that light to whatever angle he pleased in order to dodge the reality of it. He wishes he could be apathetic about it, he _wishes_ it wasn’t an existential crisis for him, he wishes it wasn’t there at all, but it is. And very, _very_ suddenly, he can’t play it off anymore, and all the facts are laid out in front of him in an ugly, glaring, unforgiving fluorescent light. There aren’t any shadows for him to shove things into this time. At 11:03pm on a Monday night, he turns to sand.

It all changes in a day. Not even twenty-four hours. One _school_ day. And by eleven that night, his whole life trajectory is turned inside out without his permission. Because of course.

The worst part is that it’s all because Alex dyes his hair.

Jack has never paid _too_ much attention to the boy’s hair — sure, he’s spent far too much time admiring his lips and his nose and his eyes, and various other parts of his body (many of which have been shoved into the shadows over the past few months), but his hair has never been anything special. A pretty brown color with some layers and some fringe that compliments his face shape, but Jack’s never spent any time waxing poetry about it. But he comes to school one day and suddenly it’s blond, and suddenly Jack _is_ waxing poetry about it.

Alex has never mentioned dying his hair, let alone blond. But it’s so cute on him, a soft golden color that’s not too yellow and not too ashy. There’s still some brown at the roots, too, almost like an ombre kind of look to give it more dimension, and Jack is so taken aback by how good he looks that he doesn’t even know what to say. Alex just stares at him while he tries to come up with something — because god forbid Alex take pity on him and change the subject when he can see he’s struggling with words — and instead he ends up stumbling over his phrases until his cheeks are flushed with embarrassment and nerves. Leave it to Alex to turn him into a stuttering idiot just because he’s cute with blond hair. 

“I left my hoodie in your car,” Alex states after a solid minute and a half of watching Jack trip over his feet at the sight of him. “Can I get it after school?”

“I, uh… I have my mom’s car today. Mine’s getting an oil change. I can bring it tomorrow?”

“Okay.”

And with that, Alex closes his locker and takes it upon himself to exit the conversation without so much as a _goodbye_.

That evening, when he’s home from getting icees with John and some of the other baseball guys, he finds Alex’s hoodie folded neatly and set on his desk. He blames his mom for that; she probably found it in his car and couldn’t stand the embarrassment of her teenage son having left a hoodie in his car before it went to be serviced — Jack’s dealt with this before. He shouldn’t have been surprised to see the hoodie in his room. He ignores it for the moment, tossing it on his bed in favor of spreading his homework out over his desk. He’s distracted the whole time that he works on it, brief flashes of blond hair and curious brown eyes and smooth lips taking over his mind far too many times. It’s such a pretty color profile, though — the golden blond, the chocolate brown, the watermelon pink. But that can be pushed to the shadows; of course he’d be thinking about Alex when he’s just dyed his hair. He’s not used to it.

It’s not until he’s getting ready for bed at 10:30 that his mind short-circuits. After brushing his teeth, he tugs on a different t-shirt, kicks off his jeans and goes to get in bed, only to run into Alex’s hoodie again. That stupid, plain, black, zip-up, blink-182 hoodie. Jack picks it up to move it back to his desk so he doesn’t forget it in the morning and instead he blacks out for a second, just an eighth of a moment where he skips to another dimension, and when he comes back to this timeline, he’s tugging the hoodie on and crawling into bed. It smells _just_ like Alex, though, with the nutmeg and the earthiness and that ever-so-subtle sweetness that he can’t place. It’s not a sickly sweet, not like maple syrup or freeze-y pop concentrate. It’s mellow and natural, something the earth would have created just for Alex. He doesn’t even think about the consequences as he pulls the hood over his head and breaths in deeply. 

He also doesn’t think about the consequences as he slips a hand under the waistband of his boxers. Nor does he think about the consequences as Alex’s big, brown eyes and soft, plump lips fill his mind as he hardens. He doesn’t think about the consequences when he’s shoving his boxers down and working his cock in long strokes with the thought of Alex’s mouth on him, or when he imagines how the boy’s moans would sound, or when he pictures pushing a hand into that blond hair and tugging gently. And he _definitely_ doesn’t think about the consequences as he comes all over his fist with the mental image of Alex coming at the top of his mind. 

And just like that, at 11:03pm on a Monday night, the unforgiving fluorescent light flicks on.

~~~

For the first time in their nine months of knowing each other, Jack’s impossibly grateful for the fact that Alex will _never_ seek him out on campus. He manages to get through the whole day on Tuesday _and_ Wednesday without running into him (maybe because he avoids his locker and rushes out to his car as fast as he can after the final bell) and he squirms uneasily any time he has a moment alone with his thoughts — he can’t get that fantasy out of his head. Alex going down on him. Alex moaning in his ear as he rides him. Alex coming on his dick. All because of that stupid blond hair.

“Are you okay?” his mom asks after dinner on Wednesday, reaching out as he washes the dishes and feeling his cheeks to see if he’s warm. “You’ve been so quiet, honey.”

“I’m okay. Tired.”

There’s a pause, and then his mother sighs heavily and says, “Jack, you know you only have a few months of school left, right? You graduate so soon. We got some college letters back in the mail.”

“Okay?”

“Well… your father and I were worried about your grades when you went into college applications-.”

Jack groans, rolling his eyes so hard it almost hurts. “God, Mom…”

“I’m serious,” she insists. “Jack, they don’t care about your senior year. You were reviewed before the fall semester was up and you’re getting letters back before the spring semester is up. Last year was your last chance to get your grades up to a competitive ranking. Your dad and I opened some of the letters and as of right now, it looks like community college is the only option for you-,”

“Mom, please stop,” he interrupts. “I can’t think about school right now.”

“What else do you have to think about?! Your education is the most important thing in your life right now! We didn’t move here so you could fail your classes.”

“I’m not failing,” he snaps. “I’m passing. I’m just not a straight A student and that’s what it takes to get into university out of high school. I’m _so sorry._ Can’t you just give me a fucking break?”

She raises a sharp eyebrow in his direction — she’s heard him swear, but not like that, not in a fight — and he knows he’s fucked. “Don’t you _ever_ speak to me like that,” she warns. “Your father and I did not uproot our lives in Lebanon for you to stomp around this house like you’re paying for it or for you to fail at a good high school in this country. I am _sorry_ that you’re not happy here, but _sometimes_ , your parents have to move their whole lives in order to give _you_ a better future. We moved to Maryland so I could get a pay raise so _you_ could go to college. This is all for _you_. But I’m sorry that we’ve made your life so miserable that you couldn’t pass your classes with high enough grades to even _go_ to college.”

As angry as her voice is, she’s in tears. Jack feels guiltier than ever — because he feels guilty all the time with his mom these days — and he slumps, unsure of what to say. Apparently he never knows what to say these days. His mom just stares at him for a second with tears in her eyes, and then she shakes her head like his silence in itself is a disappointment and she pushes off the counter to leave. “Wait, Mom-,” he tries, but she just holds up a hand as she walks away and he knows that they’ll never revisit this. He makes sure the kitchen is extra clean before he starts to slink up to his room, but he doesn’t even make it halfway up the stairs before he realizes that he doesn’t really want to be alone. So he sneaks back down, quietly grabs his keys and his wallet from the bowl in the front hallway, and slips out the front door to his car. 

Of course Alex is down for a spontaneous drive. And of course he sits in Jack’s passenger seat and flips through CD after CD as he talks shit about the concept of CDs in general, how cassettes and vinyls are infinitely better. Jack hums and haws at the right moments, but he’s so distracted, not only by the fact that he’s in the presence of this stunning boy but the fact that his mom is so disappointed in him that she _cried_. He’s never seen her cry before, let alone because of his doing. So his stupid fluke of an infatuation with Alex can take a backseat for the night.

“Why am I doing all the talking?” Alex asks when he finds a CD. “Usually you’re the one who never shuts up. Actually, why did you show up at my house asking to hang out? It’s a Wednesday night. We’ve never hung out on a Wednesday.”

“I just needed to get out of the house for a bit,” Jack says dismissively, and Alex narrows his eyes.

“Something’s up.”

“Nothing’s up, dude-,”

“No, your energy is all sorts of fucked. What’s wrong?”

Jack sighs heavily, but he’s sort of grateful that Alex can tell that something is off. “You said you don’t have the best relationship with your family, right?”

Alex scoffs as Jack pulls onto the county road that they usually get high on when they hotbox his car. “That’s an understatement.”

“Right. Well. It’s family shit, I guess.”

“Let’s get in the backseat.”

Jack falters — his ‘fluke of an infatuation with Alex taking a backseat’ wasn’t meant to be _literal_. But Alex is already crawling over the center divider and wiggling into the backseat, and Jack doesn’t have much of a choice but to follow, so he struggles to fit between the two front seats in order to avoid having to get out of the car. “Jack, you have to turn the car off,” Alex laughs, and he leans up to the front and turns the key, and Jack doesn’t have anywhere else to look but his ass. Which is round and full and highlighted in the jeans he’s wearing, but he averts his eyes before Alex can catch him staring. “Okay,” Alex huffs as he settles back down. “So what’s up?”

“It’s just my parents,” Jack groans. “My mom. I mean, my dad too, but my mom is the one who talks to me about it. I swear, I can’t do anything to make them happy. Is that, like, an immigrant child thing? Never being able to make your immigrant parents happy?”

“Probably,” Alex agrees. “I’m a UK immigrant and my parents sure fuckin’ hate me.”

“I forget that about you.”

“What are your parents disappointed in you about?”

“Cause my grades suck,” he sighs, and he shifts so he’s laying down with his head on the middle seat and his knees up, feet flat on the seat. Alex gets more comfortable too, adjusting so he’s got one leg tucked up on the seat and one foot on the ground, propping himself up on the empty spot on the top of the backseat, right in the middle where there’s no headrest. It’s oddly intimate, Jack thinks — with Alex halfway leaning over him, gazing down at him like he’s genuinely listening, and as much as this position would have sent him into a spiral ten minutes ago, it’s calming now. “They moved here from Lebanon to get away from the civil war that was happening so I didn’t grow up in a war-torn country, and they’ve worked their whole lives to get me into good schools and to get me into college here, and I got in a stupid fight with my mom over it tonight because I’ve only gotten denied at universities that I applied to and I swore at her and she made me feel all guilty, the same way she always does but somehow worse because she was yelling at me and crying at the same time, which has never happened before. I’ve never made my mom cry. But she’s taking it so personally that I haven’t fallen in love with Towson, but I didn’t want to move at all! Of course I’m not going to fucking love a town that I didn’t want to move to, right?”

“Right,” Alex agrees gently. “I mean, I don’t really remember that side of moving. I remember being nervous, but not angry. I didn’t really get what it meant when I was seven, though. But I can see how you’d be less than excited to move from your settled home and your settled friends to come here for two years.”

“I’m doing okay, obviously. I’m friends with you and I like your radio show and I like that the baseball guys include me in things sometimes, but my mom wants me to be doing _everything_ — sports, music, academics, friends, girlfriends, college, extracurriculars — and succeeding in all of it. And she acts like I’m ungrateful for everything they’ve done for me just because I’m not doing all of that. Maybe I _am_ depressed; she’s thrown that out there a few times now.”

“Well, do you think you’re depressed or do your parents just think that because you’re not living up to their standards? Y’know, like, if you’re not doing everything you could be, then you must be too depressed to do it?”

“ _I_ don’t think I’m depressed. I’m not, like, suicidal or whatever.”

Alex laughs lightly. “Depression isn’t all suicidal thoughts, Jack. It’s guilt and discontent, lack of energy and motivation, not finding joy in the things you used to find joy in, appetite changes, poor sleep or concentration… there’s a lot that goes into depression.”

“Huh,” Jack says, staring out of the side window at the darkness. “Maybe I am depressed.”

“What _do_ your parents want you to be doing?”

“Uh… getting straight A’s, locking myself in my room studying so I can get into a good college even though I’ve already applied and been denied, dating some nice perfect beautiful girl who’s out of my league, be the captain of the football team, donate my limbs to dying children, probably…”

Alex snorts on a laugh and shakes his head, and Jack glances up at him just in time to see that bright smile. “I don’t know about _that_. What’s the worst that’ll happen if you don’t get into a good college?”

“I go to community college here.”

“So either way, you’re going to college.”

“Yeah.”

“Isn’t that what they want in the first place?”

“Yeah, but community college isn’t as prestigious as a four-year, apparently. Even though I’d transfer to a four-year anyway. But I think the bigger problem is that they think I’m ungrateful. And I’m not ungrateful, necessarily; I know how much they’ve sacrificed for me, but being grateful for that isn’t just going to automatically make me love this town and the fact that I had to move away from my friends when I didn’t want to. They’re two totally different things. I just don’t know how to please my mom, y’know? I can’t do anything right in her eyes.”

“And trying your best isn’t enough, huh?”

Jack scoffs. “Never.”

“They’ll probably just never be proud enough right now. Maybe when you’re done with college and get a job, things will be better. No average high schooler can impress their immigrant parents, though.”

Jack groans, throws an arm over his eyes. “Great. Just what I need to hear.”

He uncovers his eyes again, looks up at Alex and that blond hair that’s falling in his eyes and those high cheekbones. “So what’s the deal with your parents? Why don’t you guys have a good relationship?”

Alex sighs, props his head up on his palm as he looks out the window. “We’re really gonna talk about my family right now?”

“Might as well, right? After I just complained about mine?”

He doesn’t look convinced, but he sighs again and shrugs dismissively. “We’ve never really been close,” he says, and his voice sounds distant and absent, like he’s trying not to get too personal here. “My brother was always the favorite. They only ever wanted one kid anyway, so I was the accident child. Most of the time they pawned me off on my brother so they didn’t have to entertain me. And then he died, so they were stuck with the kid they didn’t want. It’s not like they neglected me or anything, but we fought a _lot_ when he died. We all said some pretty nasty things to each other. Anyway. I smoked too much and didn’t socialize enough and wasn’t optimistic enough for them, which obviously caused a lot of rift between us, but the biggest problem was that I wasn’t my brother. That’s really what they don’t like. So we just kind of exist in the same space now and interact if we have to. It’s like living with roommates who you’re not friends with.”

“Well… did they _say_ they were upset that you weren’t your brother or is that just how it feels?”

Alex snorts humorlessly and rolls his eyes. “Oh, no. They made it very clear, very verbally, that I was the unwanted kid and if I hadn’t been born, my brother would still be around.”

Jack frowns. “What does you being born have to do with it?”

“Well — my brother died from alcohol poisoning. He was older than me by seven years, so he was almost twenty-one. Anyway, my mom is sure that he only drank so much because he had to find a way to relax after the burden of taking care of his kid brother all the time. That’s probably why my parents drink so much too. Everyone in my family’s an alcoholic because of me, apparently.”

Jack sits up, propping himself up on his palms behind him as he frowns at the younger boy, and in this position, he’s not even six inches from Alex’s face. It’s closer quarters that they’ve ever been in with each other, but in the small space of the backseat, with Alex leaning his arm on the top of the middle seat and Jack holding himself up on the base of the middle seat, there’s not anywhere else for them to go. “You know that’s not true, right?”

Alex is staring at him — with those dark, round eyes, pupil blown wide to fill the iris in the darkness — and he doesn’t say anything for a moment, but his eyes flick down for just a second and he swallows tensely as his eyes return to Jack’s, steady and unwavering. “Yeah, of course I know,” he says plainly, and Jack doesn’t really believe that. “That’s what they say, though, so…”

His tone falters just the slightest. Just enough for Jack to know that he struggles with the status of his relationship with his parents. That he wishes it was different. And just as Jack realizes that hint of longing in his voice, Alex seems to also, given the way he clears his throat and looks away quickly, breaking the intense, intimate eye contact that they’d held. “Anyway,” he says with a shrug. “It is what it is. I’ll get out one day.”

Jack takes the dismissal as what it is — Alex doesn’t want to get that intimate. Not here, not now, maybe not ever. Maybe deep gazing was too much for him. Maybe he got uncomfortable with the prolonged eye contact. Whatever the reason, he’s clearly not interested in maintaining it, so Jack lays down on his back again and asks, “But they take care of you, right?”

“Yeah, sure. Like I said, I’m not neglected. And they’re functional alcoholics; they have good jobs and they keep the bills paid and the house clean, but they have more drinks than necessary on most nights and they’ve failed at sobering up multiple times and they expect that I’ll keep to myself and figure my own shit out as needed. Besides, they’re not _mean_ most of the time. There have just been a few fights across the years where things are said, and they play it off like it was a mistake or they didn’t mean it but I can tell they do. And it’s never revisited, so they act like everything is fine when everyone knows it’s fractured.”

“Ugh, my mom does the same thing,” Jack groans, running a hand through his hair. “Like tonight, I literally made her _cry_ , but I know we’re never going to talk about it. She’s just going to let me live with that guilt like it’s a punishment. If I’d just gotten good grades, if I’d just gotten a girlfriend, if I’d just this or that, she wouldn’t have cried, I wouldn’t have felt guilty… it’s a whole power play. And it works every time.”

“No one _wants_ to disappoint their parents. Especially not their mom.”

“Well, at least I know what she wants me to do. What does your mom want you to do?”

Alex laughs, forced and satirical. “Please. The only thing my mom would approve of would be my brother coming back.”

“If they ever got sober and tried to make amends with you, would you accept it? Could you forgive them for everything?”

“I mean… it’s not like I hate them. I’m not even mad at them. It just sort of sucks to not have a real family, y’know? As much as your situation with your mom sucks, I’m halfway jealous. At least she cares about you, and vice versa. My parents wouldn’t just have to get sober and make amends, they’d have to want a son again. Specifically _me_ as a son. That’s seventeen years of apathy and distaste for me that they’d have to suddenly turn around from.”

“So it’s not just about forgiveness, then.”

“It’s not really about forgiveness at all. I’m not holding a grudge. I’m not angry. It’s just that the whole aura around our relationship would have to change. Which seems unlikely at this rate. It’s fine, though. It’s been like this forever.”

“That kinda sucks, dude.”

Alex shrugs. “It’s okay.”

It falls quiet between them. Jack stares up at the ceiling of the car as Alex stares out the window, and Jack can see Alex twirling a strand of blond hair around his finger in his peripheral. He briefly wonders why Alex’s family wouldn’t get an abortion if they hadn’t wanted a second son — and then he remembers that not everyone agrees with abortion. He also wonders why his parents don’t take the time to learn about him; Alex is easily the most interesting person he’s ever met. Although maybe he’s interesting _because_ he’s never had a close family relationship, maybe that’s part of his transcendent energy.

Alex suddenly leans forward, trying to get a better view out of the window, and he says something about a shooting star but Jack barely hears it because he’s instantly overwhelmed in that sweet, earthy, nutmeg scent, and all in one fell swoop, he’s back in that fantasy from Monday night. It’s like a montage flashback, the mental images he’d conjured up of Alex moaning, Alex’s mouth on him, Alex riding him. Except now Alex is right in front of him, inches away, and Jack has the very sudden desire to kiss him, tease his lower lip with his tongue and kiss down his neck until he’s gasping, and all of that is _way_ too much for him to handle in the span of five seconds. He’s sitting up quickly before he can even process it, mindlessly rambling about, “I-I should get home, I, uh, it’s a school night, my mom is going to be mad if I’m home late, so — so I should take you home, um-,”

“Okay,” Alex agrees smoothly, completely unfazed by Jack’s anxious outburst over seemingly nothing, and he works on crawling back over the center divider to the front as Jack tries to ease his racing heart and his nerves.

Jack is silent on the drive home as well, restless and uneasy in Alex’s company now that he’s reminded himself of his stupid, unwelcome sexual fantasy. Alex either doesn’t notice or chooses to ignore it because he just flips through Jack’s CDs as he sings along quietly to the Fall Out Boy song that’s playing. Jack’s too caught up in his thoughts to genuinely focus on how nice Alex’s voice is, but something about the vibrations registers in his system enough to calm him down just the slightest. Just enough to breathe.

~~~

**Sunshine Boy**

_Welcome back to Ground Control, folks. I’m your host, Sunshine Boy, here to give you one uninterrupted hour of music, unprofessional advice, and a semi-decent distraction from that pesky late-night insomnia. If you’d like to give us a call in, our number is (410) 555-FINE. Let’s start out with some music to remind of us of what timeline we’re in. Here’s Stay by Rihanna and Mikky Echo._

_Who’s on the line?_

**Adult Male**

_O-Oh — um, hi, I’m a new caller?_

**Sunshine Boy**

_Hi, new caller! Do you have a name or an alias that we can refer to you as?_

**Adult Male**

_Um… let’s go with Scratch-card Phil._

**Sunshine Boy**

_All right, Scratch-card Phil. Cool alias. What’s got you calling in tonight? How long have you been a listener?_

**Scratch-card Phil**

_I-I was channel-surfing on the radio a few weeks ago while I was driving and found this show. I’ve been listening in ever since. But I was hoping I could get some advice from you?_

**Sunshine Boy**

_Sure thing. Reminder: I’m no professional, so don’t hold me liable for any poor results if you do follow my advice. [laughter]_

**Scratch-card Phil**

_R-Right, right. So… well, I guess I’m asking you because you’ve mentioned before that you don’t identify as specifically straight or gay, and that you believe sexuality is fluid. I was wondering if you’ve ever had to come out to anyone before? I came to terms with my sexuality about a year ago, but I just got a boyfriend and now I think I have to tell people, which I haven’t done before. My parents don’t even know._

**Sunshine Boy**

_Ah, coming out can be stressful. I’ve never formally ‘come out’ to anyone before, but I’m also not close with my family and I only have one close friend, and when we discussed sexualities, it was a very free-flowing conversation that we’d lapsed into one night. He didn’t fully understand how I was so carefree about potentially being interested in other men, without feeling anxiety about backlash or homophobia, but I think that’s because I’m very comfortable being alone. So if someone in my life did reject my fluid sexuality, I wouldn’t have trouble removing myself from their company._

_That said, that’s not the case for everyone. We’re in a transition phase in our society right now where people in the LGBT community are becoming more widely accepted, but there’s still a good amount of hate, so I totally get why it’s nerve-wracking to consider coming out to your family and friends. The best advice I can give is to make sure that it’s a safe environment for you to do so. There’s never a good time to do it, but also, you’re under no obligation to tell people if you don’t want to. You’re allowed to keep your love life private. If you do want to tell the people around you, make sure it’s safe and do it when you feel comfortable. I would imagine that forcing it would cause a lot of stress and anxiety. I don’t know if any of that helps, and that’s all based on my limited knowledge of coming out to friends and family, but I hope at least part of that was beneficial._

**Scratch-card Phil**

_That was helpful, yeah. Thank you, Sunshine Boy. The friend you came out to, he wasn’t freaked out that you were interested in boys?_

**Sunshine Boy**

_No, I don’t think so. He just didn’t understand how I was so indifferent about it. But again, I don’t struggle with my sexuality because I don’t have anyone to lose over it._

**Scratch-card Phil**

_Right, yeah. That makes sense._

**Sunshine Boy**

_Thanks for calling in, Scratch-card Phil. I hope to hear from you again soon. Let’s take a little break here and listen to Two Is Better Than One by Boys Like Girls ft. Taylor Swift._

_Next caller, you’re live._

**Falcon**

_Hi Sunshine, Falcon here._

**Sunshine Boy**

_Hey, Falcon! What brings you here tonight?_

**Falcon**

_Well, I had a question, and I hope I don’t sound like too much of an old, outdated man by asking this, but you’ve never been in a relationship, Sunshine. How do you know you might be interested in men?_

**Sunshine Boy**

_You just sort of know, Falcon. I imagine that someone fully straight wouldn’t consider someone of the same sex as a potential dating option._

**Falcon**

_So if you’ve never been with anyone…_ intimately _, if you will, do you just…_ picture _yourself with someone like that? A man?_

**Sunshine Boy**

_Falcon, if I’m reading between the lines correctly here, that’s hardly a family friend topic for the show. [laughter] I think I’m going to leave my answer as ‘you can just tell’ and you can let your imagination run wild. Sorry to cut you short here, but we’re going to take our next caller._

**Lisa**

_Hi there, Sunshine! Lisa on the line._

**Sunshine Boy**

_Hey, Lisa, good to hear from you again. Been a few weeks!_

**Lisa**

_Oh, I’ve been so busy lately that sometimes I fall asleep before I get a chance to call. Anyway, I was wondering about that crush you had? When Chip called in a few weeks ago, you told him to ask again in a few months, and I know it hasn’t been that long, but I figured since we’re on the topic of love lives…_

**Sunshine Boy**

_Scratch-card Phil, if you’re still listening, I hope you don’t mind that we’ve totally piggy-backed on your topic. Lisa, I think it’s still difficult for me to tell what’s a crush and what’s not, so… not much change there. Sorry to disappoint._

**Lisa**

_Ah, that’s okay. I just figured I’d check in. Thanks for always being candid with us, Sunshine._

_~~~_

One of Jack’s favorite things to do is watch Alex interact with other people at school. It’s not frequent that he sees it at all, but he _loves_ watching him snap at John O’Callaghan and seeing the judgmental eyes he shoots at people’s outfits or when a group of people is too loud for his liking. He’s quiet in his judgment and his distaste, for the most part, but he certainly doesn’t hide it in his eyes or his body language. Jack thinks it’s funny, unless it’s directed at him — like those first few weeks of school when he tried to be nice to him and got silent staring in return. He knows first hand how oddly intimidating Alex can be.

“Hey, um — hey, Alex?”

Jack glances in the corner of his eye to see a small girl with short, dark hair and big eyes, who’s standing beside Alex at his locker clutching her notebook to her chest. Alex turns and looks at her, looks more than surprised to see her standing there, and Jack is definitely going to watch this play out in his peripheral. “Hi,” Alex says flatly as he sorts through his things, and the girl shifts her weight nervously from one foot to the other. 

“Um. I-I’m Meg, if you don’t remember, we had algebra together-,”

“I remember.”

“Oh. R-Right, um, I was just wondering… I mean, senior ball is this weekend, and I know it’s last minute and I-I don’t know if you have a date yet, or if you’re even going ‘cause you’re a junior, but if you don’t have a date, I thought maybe we could go together?”

Alex looks at her then, with the same emotionless facial expression that he’d used on Jack that very first day of school, when Jack had stupidly told him that it was cool that he was part of a subculture. He’s since learned that teddy boys didn't even wear punk clothing; they wore formal dress. He feels bad for this girl, being on the receiving end of Alex’s apathy — he hasn’t even bothered to ask Alex if he’s going to senior ball. He knows he wouldn’t go even if he did have a senior date. But this girl is going to have to find that out the hard way, apparently. 

“What, like a date?” he asks, and it’s not cold but it’s sure not welcoming either.

“I-I mean, if you want,” Meg squeaks. “We don’t have to-,”

“I’m out of town for senior ball,” he interrupts, and Jack’s not sure he’s blinked at all since he started staring her down but he can’t really tell in his peripheral. “I won’t be going.”

“Oh,” she says, and she slumps in disappointment. “Okay. Maybe another time?”

“I’m not allowed to date.”

“O-Oh. Um, okay then. Sorry.”

And with that, she hurries off in the other direction, clearly unease by Alex’s indifference, and Jack takes the chance to turn to him as the younger boy turns back to his locker. “So,” he says, stifling a laugh. “Out of town. Not allowed to date. Is that so?”

The corner of Alex’s mouth turns up in a coy smile as he puts his binder in his locker. “Maybe in another timeline.”

And with that, he closes the locker and walks away.

Jack knows he’s going to senior ball. It’s not really top of his list on things to do, but his mom would never forgive him if he didn’t go, so he bargained — if he didn’t have to take a date, and as long as his parents paid for his ticket, he’d go. Is he thrilled about wearing a suit and dancing to bad pop music and drinking shitty punch for several hours? Not particularly. But hey, rites of passage or whatever. Maybe he’ll get invited to a party afterwards, and at least he won’t be disappointing his mother again.

So the ball comes around on Saturday. Jack goes with John and the baseball guys because he’s not close with anyone else but Alex, and Alex is obviously not an option. John has a date — of course — and so do some of the others, but Jack’s not the only one going stag so he’s not completely left out. His mom takes too many pictures, as expected, and she’s sure to cup his face and smile sweetly and say, “You look so handsome, I hope you have fun,” only to sharply slap his cheek afterward, and, with a change of tone, demand, “If you come home drunk, you’re grounded for a month.”

As if she hasn’t condoned his partying before.

The dance is exactly what he expected. Girls in dresses that look like Gillian Anderson at the Emmys in 1997 (albeit varying colors and a lot more sequins) and guys in tuxedos that are too wide for their shoulders and too long for their legs, a bowl of punch that someone is surely going to attempt to spike, and a lot of *NSYNC and Britney Spears. Jack likes Britney Spears, but he won’t admit to that. The admin circle the room like sharks looking for couples who are grinding in the center of the dance floor, hoping they’re not seen by the chaperone. He mostly hangs out with Kennedy and Garrett because they don’t have dates either, and he sort of likes Kennedy — he’s similar to John but with a bit less frat boy energy. He dances with a girl named Shay who he doesn’t know very well, and she seems to be seeking out a certain ending to her night that Jack’s not so willing to provide, so he already knows he’ll be avoiding her when the slow dances come around.

After about an hour in the stuffy gym, he slips out the back doors to get some air. There are a few other people outside, one couple making out on the bench beside a girl who’s getting water from the drinking fountain and another couple who look like they’re fighting about something, but Jack just leans against the wall a few feet away from everyone and takes a few deep breaths. It’s not that he’s not having fun, he’s just not having so much fun that he’s glad he didn’t miss it. Because he would have been fine missing this.

“ _Hey_ ,” a voice from behind him hisses, and he jumps, turns to find Alex poking his head out from around the corner of the building.

“Alex?” he hisses back, glancing behind him to see if anyone else has seen the younger boy, but they’re all still distracted, so he quietly slips around the corner to join him. “What are you doing here? I thought you weren’t coming!”

“I didn’t, technically,” Alex shoots back with a smirk. He’s not wearing any formal attire — just a pair of tight jeans and a patterned button down shirt. “I snuck around the back ‘cause I don’t have a ticket. I’m just here to fuck with the music.”

“Wait, what?”

“I switched out one of the CDs,” he explains. “Nothing serious. Just some blink and Green Day instead of whatever Beyonce and Britney CD they had going. No hate towards Beyonce and Britney.”

“So you snuck into senior ball wearing regular clothes to pull a prank.”

“Yes."

“You couldn’t have worn something formal, at least?”

Alex rolls his eyes. “Do you think I own anything formal? What’s my mom gonna do, take me shopping?”

Jack didn’t think about that. 

“Well, are you going to stick around?” he asks, trying to hide his hopeful voice. “Dance to your own surprise CD?”

Alex laughs. “Hell no. I’m gonna go get high and walk around town. You wanna ditch?”

Jack hesitates — he was supposed to go to a party with John and the baseball guys — but getting high with Alex and wandering around town at night sounds like a way better plan. Besides, his mother said he can’t come home drunk, but she didn’t say anything about high. And as out of place as Alex looks amongst everyone in formal wear, he looks cute. With his messy blond hair and his mischievous eyes and that cocky smile. So Jack says yes because apparently all it takes is a cute blond boy to change his plans for an evening.

Alex doesn’t fish a joint and a lighter out of his pocket until they’re around the corner from the school. Jack watches quietly as he strikes the lighter up and holds it to the end of the joint, a practiced skill that Jack knows he’s perfected by now. Once it’s lit, he hands it over to Jack, who takes a hit and inhales deeply, holds it in as he passes it back. It’s quiet while they take the first few puffs, and Jack feels weird in the silence after being surrounded by loud pop music for the last few hours. Alex doesn’t mind it, obviously, because he never minds silence. 

“No date?” Alex asks after a few minutes, a casual question, valid considering Jack just ditched the dance, but for some reason, it excites him that Alex might want to know if he’s _with_ someone. 

“No date,” he confirms, and Alex hums as he takes the joint back. “Why weren’t you going to go to senior ball? I could have gotten you in.”

Alex shrugs as he inhales, and Jack waits for a few seconds as he exhales the smoke. “No one to go with, no money to get a ticket, no money for formal clothes, shitty music… there’s a laundry list of reasons. It’s not meant to me here.”

“Here?”

“Lifetime, timeline, all of it. Not in my script right now.”

“What exactly is the difference between lifetime and timeline?”

“Seriously?” Alex looks at him with a baffled look, and then he laughs, shaking his head incredulously. “You’re just now asking that question? After all of the conversations we’ve had about it? Jack, that’s a crucial part of understanding everything I tell you about.”

“Well, so, tell me now!”

“So… lifetimes exist within timelines. Like, you and I are existing in the same timeline, in this year on this planet in this town, etcetera, etcetera. But you’re living a different life than I’m living — you’re a year older than me, grew up in Rhode Island, moved here, you’ll date different people, and so on, whereas I grew up here, lost a brother, started a radio show, you get the gist of it. So your lifetime in this timeline is different than mine. So when I talk about different lifetimes versus different timelines, it’s not the same thing. Under the assumption that reincarnation is real, someone could live hundreds of lifetimes in the same timeline, being reborn over and over in different lives. _Timelines_ is inherently under the assumption of the multiverse, y’know, as far as I’m aware, there’s not multiple timelines existing at the same time as our timeline within our scope of our universe. If that makes sense.”

“Ah. Okay. I sort of get that, I think. So what lifetimes do you think you’re living in other timelines?”

Alex smiles to himself as they turn the corner. The moon is barely a crescent in the sky tonight, a fingernail shaped sliver that provides virtually no light, but Jack knows which of Alex’s features are his favorite to watch for. His smile, his eyes, his brows. If he was able to, he’d look at his legs and his ass in those jeans, but he hasn’t gotten that opportunity yet, not without surely getting caught. He wonders if he’s given Alex any indication that all of his previous denials are lit up bright for him to see now. If the younger boy really is psychic, then he already knows.

“I think I’m famous in one,” Alex finally states. “I think that’s the same timeline that I’m with Lisa. She seems like she’d be a good long distance, long term partner for someone who’s busy with an active job. But I think I’d be in a band. Pop-punk, of course. Maybe I don’t have insomnia in that timeline.”

“You’ve obviously thought a lot about your other life with Lisa.”

He’s not bitter.

“I think about my alternative lives with everyone,” Alex dismisses. “Maybe you and I are famous together in that timeline. Or maybe in another, you and I never meet. You never feel the drowning desire to be my friend and I never share my show with you. Or maybe in another, you’ve not in an existential crisis about your sexuality and we fall madly in love.”

He’s teasing, and Jack knows it by the subtle smirk that gives away the light in the statement, but it sets his nerves on end anyway. Given his anxiety about that stupid fantasy and the fact that the weed is starting to hit, that statement carries more weight than Alex probably thinks it does. “Who’s to say that’s not this timeline?” he retorts, and he doesn’t quite process that he just opened a door he wasn’t ready to open until Alex looks over at him, eyebrows raised just the slightest bit in his surprise.

There’s a pause, and then Alex asks, “ _Is_ it this timeline?” and Jack swallows.

“Uh,” he starts, and he looks away. “I mean. Apparently not?”

He knows that Alex is too smart to miss how weak that dismissal was. There’s another pause, and Jack’s waiting to be called out on it, but instead the younger boy just plucks the joint from Jack’s fingertips and says absently, “Apparently not.”

Alex leads them to the park. With the tree cover above them, the night is so dark that Jack has to squint and focus to make sure he doesn’t trek off the maintained path. Alex lets him finish off the joint, and they settle at one of the tables, with Alex seated on the tabletop and Jack on the bench. “So do you just immediately accept everything, all the time?” Jack asks, and Alex looks down at him.

“What do you mean?”

“Like, with your script or whatever. Don’t you ever get mad? Or hurt, or embarrassed? Or is it just immediate acceptance because ‘that’s what must be in my script?’”

Alex laughs lightly as he stretches out one leg so he can reach into his pocket. It emerges with another joint and the lighter, and he rests his elbows on his knees as he lights up again. “I’m not an emotionless droid driven by cosmological theory, you know. I feel things.”

“So you do get mad.”

“Yeah, of course. I’ll admit that I’m not easily embarrassed, but I get mad just like everyone else. I have the same range of emotions. I’m hardly a psychopath.”

“What about nervous? I feel like you’re never nervous or anxious or anything. You just seem so apathetic about everything around you, like nothing could faze you.”

“I’m fazed,” Alex argues, and he passes the second joint to him. Jack takes a hit, already knowing that he’s going to be higher than usual because most of the time, they only share one joint. “I dunno, I’m not really a nervous person. Believe it or not, I’m diagnosed with generalized anxiety disorder, but that doesn’t really correlate with _nerves_. It just means I overthink everything and assume the worst all the time. But that’s gotten better.”

“What would make you nervous, then?”

“Well — I dunno, what are some situations where you’ve felt nervous?”

“I was _freaked_ when I had sex for the first time,” Jack admits, and Alex laughs. “I was so nervous. And I guess I was nervous when I first moved here, too. And you sure made me nervous when I didn’t know you well.”

“I can see how having sex could make me nervous,” Alex agrees with a nod. “But it’d probably depend on who I was sleeping with and how I felt about them. I don’t think kissing would make me nervous but being responsible for someone else’s pleasure might freak me out a bit. But also — I dunno, maybe not. It’s just another body, I guess.”

“Don’t you worry that you’ll suck in bed?”

“Y’know, you raise a lot of questions that I’ve never really considered before,” the younger boy points out with a grin. “I feel like I wouldn’t have worried about that if you hadn’t mentioned it. So, no, I’ve never really worried about that. But I’ve also never had anyone to worry about it with.”

“Okay, wait, if you don’t think kissing would make you nervous, why don’t you just _kiss_ someone?”

“God, you _really_ want me to kiss someone. I just don’t think I’m someone to casually kiss people, you know? Some people can casually kiss, have casual sex, have casual flings — I don’t think that’s me. I think kissing would be my biggest form of physical intimacy; that would mean more to me than sex. If I kiss someone, it’s going to be because I genuinely like them and trust them and want to be with them. I’m not going to kiss someone just to get it over with.”

Jack wishes he was the person that Alex wanted to kiss.

“Kissing would mean more than sex?” he asks instead, and Alex shrugs. “Why?"

“It just feels more intimate to me. Sex feels like a biological need for pleasure. Not to say sex _isn’t_ intimate, ‘cause I’m sure it can be, but kissing is cute, y’know? I think it’s sweet. One kiss could say so much more than sex ever could. Besides, in order to _construct_ a relationship with someone, it’d take a lot of time and trust before I felt comfortable, and during that construction, my potential partner would have to find out that I’m not too into physical intimacy. I wouldn’t construct a relationship unless they knew that they weren’t going to get a lot sex out of me, so kissing would mean more just on the basis that that’s the kind of physical intimacy that I’m more at ease with.”

“But you _do_ want to kiss someone.”

Alex laughs. “In theory, sure. But it’ll find me when I’m ready. I don’t want to seek it out.”

He reaches over and takes the joint from Jack’s fingers, and in his high daze, suddenly all Jack can focus on is how nice his hands are. And with one spark of curiosity that he doesn’t consider to rethink, he’s taking Alex’s free hand and lacing their fingers together. Alex goes still, looks down at their hands, but Jack is too busy examining how comfortable Alex’s fingers look intertwined with his to realize that the younger boy is just staring at him. Waiting for him to realize that this is not a normal friend thing to do. Jack has never once held Zack’s hand.

When it finally hits him, he jumps, yanking his hand away from Alex’s as his cheeks flush pink. He looks up at the younger boy with wide eyes, unsure of how to even attempt to justify that, and Alex just stares back because of course. Alex would never just change the subject to save him from embarrassment. “Um,” is all he can think to say, his high mind working in overdrive to play this off. “Sorry, I… I don’t really know why I did that.”

Alex maintains uncomfortable eye contact for another few seconds before he finally blinks and turns away again, looking up at the tree canopy above them with a blank expression. “Scripts, or whatever.”

Even he doesn’t sound convinced.

When Jack gets home — at almost two in the morning — he’s not high anymore, but he still feels out of it. Maybe from the rush of _touching_ Alex. Ditching senior ball to smoke with him and then holding his hand like they’re together. Implying that this might be the timeline that they fall madly in love. He doesn’t know where the fuck any of that came from so he’ll blame it on the weed. Despite how bright that fluorescent light is now, he’s not ready to throw a label on all the evidence. He just needs a little more time.

~~~

**Sunshine Boy**

_Hello listeners, welcome back to Ground Control. How’s everyone doing tonight? I’ll admit that the past few days have been strange for me — oh, shoot. I’m your host, Sunshine Boy, for new listeners. For anyone who’d like to call in, under a real name or an alias, our number is (410) 555-FINE. Before we get into any callers, let’s take moment and relax with a little Taylor Swift. I’ve been listening to this a lot over the weekend: here’s cardigan._

_I hope our callers tonight are doing better than I am — my anxiety has been rampant for a few days now, for the first time in a while. I’ve been looking forward to the show to calm down a bit. Who’s our first caller? Caller one, you’re live._

**Starlit**

_Hi, Sunshine._

**Sunshine Boy**

_Oh, Starlit, hello. We haven’t heard from you in a while; I’ve been missing your voice._

**Starlit**

_I’ve been missing you too, baby. What’s got you feeling so anxious? There’s nothing in the cosmic field that would directly cause stress to the system._

**Sunshine Boy**

_Ah, I suppose it’s nothing in particular. As someone who suffers from generalized anxiety disorder, this happens often enough for me to recognize it when it comes around. There’s… hm. I did this to myself — I let my thoughts run with something that I’ve been pushing back for a while, and it’s doing me dirty._

**Starlit**

_You sure sound troubled, Sunshine. Anything us listeners can do to help?_

**Sunshine Boy**

_That’s very kind, Starlit, but unfortunately, I can’t think of anything beyond your lovely voices across the line here. I’m grateful for everyone here tonight. Before we take another caller, let’s listen to Right Here by Tori Templet._

_Next caller, you’re live._

**Boy Exotic**

_Hi Sunshine, Boy Exotic here._

**Sunshine Boy**

_Oh — h-hey, Boy Exotic. How have you been?_

**Boy Exotic**

_I’m okay, but I guess I had a question for you, considering you’re someone who struggles with anxiety. When something is nagging at your mind, how do you get rid of it? Like — when you know what the answer is, but you’re not ready to admit to it and you can’t stop thinking about it because you’re putting so much energy into ignoring it?_

**Sunshine Boy**

_Um… that’s a good question. I’ve had a lot of methods of distracting myself in the past. I’ve mentioned before that I had a close relationship with Mary Jane, who was certainly a distraction, albeit not a healthy one at the time. Other times I’ll listen to music or go for a walk or read something that I know will get my mind elsewhere. But I’ll be honest, Boy Exotic, when you know the answer to something you’re not ready to acknowledge, sometimes it’s easier to just give in and accept it, and then put your energy into teaching yourself to be okay with that conclusion. Although I know that’s not what you want to hear, but maybe that’s what’s best for you and the people around you._

**Boy Exotic**

_Yeah, well, I know you’re right. Thanks, Sunshine._

**Sunshine Boy**

_Sure thing, Boy Exotic. I-I hope to s — hear from you again soon. Here’s Like Real People Do by Hozier._

_~~~_

“ _Jack?_ ”

“Hey, Zee.”

“ _What’s up? Dude, it’s late as fuck, why are you calling me at — at two in the morning?_ ”

“I’m sure you’re tired of all my back and forth with this but I think I really do have a thing for Alex.”

“ _… Like, a real crush? Not just infatuation or a friend-crush?_ ”

“No, like, a real crush.”

“ _What changed?_ ”

“Uh… I sort of got off thinking about him? And all I want to do is hang out with him, and we got high after senior ball and I held his hand — I don’t even know _why_ — and I would give anything to kiss him. I got jealous when he was talking about being with someone in another timeline. And he’s so cute and wicked smart and he’s so passionate about anything he puts his mind to, and it just… I can’t stop thinking about him, ever. I haven’t stopped thinking about him since I met him. I could push it away for the most part, but ever since I got off thinking about him, it’s like there’s nowhere to hide. I can’t ignore it, now. It’s just — I don’t want to be gay, y’know? My mom is already disappointed in me as it is.”

“ _Well, you still like girls, right? Your mom doesn’t need to know if you don’t want to tell her. But it does sound like you have a crush, especially if you’re getting off on him. There’s not really another way to justify that. Are you going to tell him?_ ”

“I have to, right? God, he’s probably psychic, he probably already knows.”

“ _If you want to do anything about it, you definitely have to tell him. Otherwise he’ll never know and you won’t be able to make a move._ ”

“Right. Okay. That’s what I thought too.”

“ _I’m glad you figured it out, Jay._ ”

“I guess.”

~~~

The following week progresses on the fuel of Jack’s anxiety.

On Wednesday, he’s so nervous at the thought of even _seeing_ Alex that he intentionally changes his regular schedule so he goes to his locker at different times. He keeps his eyes on John and the other baseball guys during lunch instead of scanning the room for a glimpse of the younger boy. His hands tremble all through his last period at the prospect of maybe running into Alex after the final bell at their lockers, and he can’t decide if it’s excitement or dread that makes him quiver.

On Thursday, he has to run by his locker during the lunch hour to grab an assignment that he’d forgotten to complete — John is going to let him copy off of his — and of course there’s Alex, alone in the hallway, spinning the dial on his lock. He looks cuter than ever in a black worn-out Nirvana t-shirt and a denim jacket paired with his usual tight jeans, topped off with the perpetually messy blond hair, and Jack’s heart lurches in his chest at the sight. He’s about to turn and escape, but Alex looks over at him then and Jack wonders if he looks as much like a deer in the headlights as he feels. He can’t leave now, so he inches towards his locker feeling weak in the knees, spins the combination dial as he tries to think of something to say. Which, of course, means his head goes blank and he panics, only to hear himself say, “Y-You look nice today,” which is probably the worst thing he possibly could have said, given the circumstances.

Alex looks down at his outfit, like he’s forgotten what he’s wearing, and then back up at Jack as he closes his locker and leans on it with one shoulder. “Thanks,” he replies smoothly, and Jack risks a glance at him to find that Alex is just watching him rifle through his locker to waste time, even though he knows exactly where the assignment is. “Are you looking for something?”

“Uh, an — an assignment, yeah, I need to copy off John.”

Alex hums but doesn’t say anything else, and Jack isn’t sure if he’s imagining it but there’s so much tension between them that he feels like he’s suffocating. He really does need to get back to John, though, so he gives up on wasting time and easily finds the assignment, closing his locker and reluctantly turning towards Alex, who’s got the slightest smile tugging at his lips and those soft, sweet eyes trained on his. “I, uh… I should go,” he says uneasily, and Alex raises one perfect eyebrow. “I need to get this copied before the end of lunch.”

“Sure,” Alex replies with a nod, and Jack swallows thickly, hesitates for a second, and then he turns around again to head back to the cafeteria. “Hey — wait a second.”

His heart is in his throat as he turns again, and he can feel how wide his eyes are as Alex approaches him, stepping so close that Jack’s reminded of the time that the younger boy shoved him into the dressing room in AllSaints at the mall and the time he crowded him against the shelves of the cosmology section in the library. They’re only a few inches apart, and Jack could so easily cup his face and slot their lips together. His breath catches as Alex reaches up, and Jack can’t keep his eyes off of Alex’s, those long eyelashes and those dark irises flecked with gold, but Alex has his gaze settled just below eye level as he gently swipes the pad of his thumb across Jack’s cheekbone. 

“You had an eyelash,” the younger boy says, eyes flicking up to meet Jack’s for half a second before he’s stepping away. As if that wasn’t the most intimate, sexually charged moment they’ve ever experienced with each other. As if that wasn’t a blatant invitation for Jack to kiss him. 

And all at once, Jack blinks and the moment is gone. Alex is standing at an appropriate distance and Jack’s heart is racing to make up for the moments that he held his breath and his mind is absent of any thought, so all he can do is stare. And Alex just stares right back. And then he panics again and says stupidly, “Thanks,” and practically bolts in the other direction. 

On Friday, he considers skipping school, but his mother would never forgive him, so he shakes his leg nervously all through his classes, unable to pay attention because his mind is stuck on the fantasies he’d conjured up last night. He avoids his locker and the library as best he can, and at the end of the day, he thinks he’s in the clear as he walks out to his car. Until he sees Alex walking with Tay Jardine. And Alex looks even better today than he did yesterday, in those tight jeans and a white t-shirt with a red unbuttoned flannel pulled over his shoulders. Jack gets in his car to avoid being seen, but he can’t bring himself to pull away. He just watches as they stop by Tay’s car, and Jack can tell by her body language that she’s flirting — leaning against the side of the car and looking up at him, laughing at whatever he’s saying and playing with her hair. Alex doesn’t seem too concerned with the flirting, which Jack is grateful for, but he’s jealous just at the fact that Tay is obviously interested. He watches until Alex walks away, and only then does he realize that _erode._ is playing through his car’s speakers.

On Saturday, he tries to distract himself. He goes back to _eroding,_ even though he knows he already turned to sand, knows he reached the point of seeing where his planes of existence intersect — but nonetheless, he runs until his legs threaten to collapse on him, plays guitar until his fingertips have angry indents in them, drinks coffee until he’s so jittery that he feels sick. He tries to engage with his family more than he usually does, so he goes shopping with his mother and intentionally buys clothes that aren’t his usual style, only to get home and realize that they’re Alex’s style. He edges himself until he’s sweating and trembling and on the verge of tears, and when he comes, he blacks out for a minute before he comes to, and then he’s so exhausted that he can barely stand in order to clean up. He sleeps for fourteen hours.

On Sunday night, Alex shows up outside of his window.

It’s eight o’clock. It’s late to hang out on a school night. They have to wake up early tomorrow. There are plenty of reasons that Jack could say he can’t come out, but he knows none of them will hold up against Alex’s persistence. So he slinks outside, so nervous that his stomach squirms, but Alex looks as normal as ever. “Hi,” Jack says uneasily, hoping that doesn’t sound weird. “Um. What are you doing here?”

“I wanted to hang out,” Alex responds with a shrug. “Come on.”

“Where?”

“My house, dumb-ass. Get your car.”

It’s a quiet drive. Jack can’t find any words because he’s too caught up in the fact that this is probably the best chance he’s going to get to tell Alex that he has feelings for him, otherwise he’ll chicken out and never do it. Which means that at some point within the next few hours, he’s going to have to admit that he’s not straight, and that he’s not straight _because_ of Alex. Alex would be such a good boyfriend for him, though — he’s never had a crush this bad. And he’s never been able to be as vulnerable with other people as he is with Alex. As much as he trusts Zack, Alex is able to listen and help him better than Zack ever could. Alex is attentive and kind and understanding, and he knows when Jack is trying to cover for a real emotion by joking. Zack doesn’t share that emotional intelligence. Besides, Alex is _cute_. Even now, Jack is enamored; the younger boy is in the passenger seat singing quietly along to the cassette that he’d made as he flips through Jack’s CD binder, as if he’s going to change out the music for a seven minute drive. 

When they get to Alex’s house, the younger boy gets them both glasses of water before they go upstairs to his room, shutting the door, and Alex turns on only his desk light, a dim, warm wash of color that barely lights the room, and he strikes up a candle as well. _Mood lighting_ , Jack thinks to himself, and then he flushes because Alex is probably not intentionally creating a sensual environment. But Jack has a crush on him so of course he’s going to view it as such. “You can get comfortable,” Alex tells him, gesturing towards the bed. “I just wanna listen to music.”

Jack’s breath catches at the thought of just sitting on the bed with Alex, but he can’t exactly decline the offer because then the younger boy will know something is wrong. So he sits on the mattress, toes his shoes off, and he’s grateful that Alex has a full sized bed so they can put at least a little bit of space between them. The other boy finds the cassette that he wants — Jack glances at the title to see Alex’s cursive handwriting: _construct. —_ and puts it in the player, messing around with the volume for a few seconds before he seems satisfied, and he takes his shoes off as well and climbs on the bed beside Jack. He lies on his back with his head at the end, resting his sock-covered feet on the wall above the headboard. Jack doesn’t quite know where or how to sit, but he feels the swell of desire to be near him, so he lies down beside him on his stomach, resting his head in his arms.

Alex seems content with not talking, so Jack doesn’t try to strike up a conversation. The other boy has his eyes closed, which gives Jack the opportunity to admire him for the first time since the fluorescent lights flicked on. Since he admitted to this crush. With Lorde’s The Louvre playing in the background, Jack imagines himself tracing a finger along the diagonal cut of his jawline, running a finger along his plump lower lip. There’s a temporary tattoo of a skull behind his ear, still fresh and not yet pilling away, and Jack can imagine that as a real tattoo. His blond hair curls in little wisps around the junction of his jaw and teases at the tops of his cheekbones, a few strands of his fringe resting over his dark eyebrows. Jack swears he has to do some kind of eyebrow maintenance to make them that perfect, but he knows Alex would deny it to his death. His nose is a smooth slope with the slightest downturn at the end, barely noticeable unless someone’s looking for it, and his long, dark eyelashes are fanned out across the tops of his cheeks, slightly curled. Jack gets stuck on his lips, though — slender and plush and carnation pink, practically begging to fit between Jack’s. He thinks that Alex would be a good kisser, probably intentional and precise in his movement, or maybe selfish in a way that he kisses for himself, the way _he_ wants to kiss, but Jack thinks that no matter what, they’ll be compatible.

The song changes to Love on the Brain by Rihanna, and Jack’s mental process changes to the prospect of telling Alex that he likes him. He doesn’t even know how to begin that conversation. Maybe _can we talk about something?_ Or _I need to tell you something_ , or even _I think I’m bi and it’s because of you_ but that’s at the bottom of the list of options because it makes it sound like this is Alex’s fault. The longer he looks at the other boy, the more nervous he gets — the odds of Alex being interested in him are low. Alex doesn’t seem like someone who would keep his feelings close to his chest if he’s interested in someone; Jack’s sure he would have mentioned something by now if he had feelings. Which begs the question of whether Jack would be able to be friends with him if his romantic feelings are one-sided, and he hasn’t really come up with an answer for that. Maybe if Alex doesn’t like him back, he’ll be able to expel this crush. Maybe he could fall for someone else to get it out of his mind. But he can’t plan on anything until he actually admits to the crush, which brings him back to square one.

R.E.M. by Ariana Grande begins. Jack remembers Alex singing this in the back of his car, drunk and sleepy, leaning on the window with his eyes closed, his head surely filled with the instrumentals and the backing vocals. He remembers Zack saying that he understood now. That his cosmic infatuation made sense. That was the one time he’s heard Alex sing unaccompanied by a car radio, the one time he heard his real singing voice. Unaltered and smooth, singing the way he wanted to hear it sung. He thinks that’s the closest he’s ever gotten to the thought that he might have just skipped timelines. He wonders if he’ll ever hear Alex sing like that again. If the younger boy will trust him enough to sing his own music. Maybe, if this goes poorly, he’ll never hear Alex sing again.

“Hey,” he hears himself say, before he can process it, let alone decide on what he’s going to say, and Alex opens his eyes, turns his head to look at him, and his vision tunnels as his heart rate picks up. “Uh — I-I need to tell you something.”

Alex smiles gently, barely there. “You don’t need to tell me anything.”

Jack frowns. He didn’t plan on Alex shutting him down before he even said anything. “No, I do, okay, it’s just — I’m really nervous, and I don’t really know how to say it but I need to get this off of my chest, I’ve been avoiding it for a long time-,”

“Jack,” Alex interrupts, and his eye contact is intense and unwavering. “I _know_. You don’t need to say anything. Just _listen_.”

He deflates a little as Alex turns back to look at the ceiling, closing his eyes, and he doesn’t even know what _listen_ means when Alex has stopped talking. So he slumps against his arms again, unsure of if he’s grateful for the opportunity to opt out or disappointed that he doesn’t have a concrete answer, but it doesn’t matter now. That was a rejection if he’s ever heard one. He tunes back into the music then, lets Harry Styles serenade him and take over his thoughts (of course, he tunes in on the line _you don’t have to say you love me, you don’t have to say nothing, you don’t have to say you’re mine)_ until he notices that Alex is suddenly silently singing along, mouthing the lyrics with a gentle smile tugging at the corners of his lips and the softest pink blush dusting over the tops of his cheeks and the bridge of his nose, and he turns to Jack and opens his eyes, soft and sweet and lidded in affection, as he sings quietly along to one verse. And just like that, _construct._ makes sense. _Listen_ makes sense.

_“you don’t have to say you love me, i just wanna tell you somethin’, lately you’ve been on my mind…”_

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading! please leave comments and/or constructive criticism; i love to hear from readers.


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